


Unfortunate Circumstances

by Asier



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Physical Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, non-evil Jack because he grew up with someone that cares about him, should have included that tag sooner sorry, the Alice/Sharon is a background pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2018-11-16 18:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11258973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asier/pseuds/Asier
Summary: Gilbert, literally, runs into Oz on his way to school and sees something that seriously concerns him. From that point on, the more he gets to know Oz, the more concerned he gets and the more determined he becomes to help Oz realize that he deserves happiness.





	1. Collision (Tuesday)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may recognize Unfortunate Circumstances as a fic that used to be up on fanfiction.net. I'm the author. I took it down because my writing style has improved since I wrote it and when I tried editing it just wasn't working for me. Long story short, I figured since so many people liked the story initially, it would be cruel of me to take it down forever so I've started rewriting it. It has the same plot and will cover the same basic plot points but I believe it's going to be quite a bit different. That being said, here is the beginning of the new and, hopefully, drastically improved Unfortunate Circumstances.

Oz lived in a relatively small, upper class neighborhood. Large, three-story houses that looked nearly identical lined the sidewalks. A hospital lay near the center of the residential area, a park and the local elementary, middle, and high schools lay in the opposite direction. Oz’s home was roughly right between those two areas, about four blocks away from each, give or take half a block. The convenient position of his home was doubly convenient when one knew that he had to walk to his high school, regularly, and to the hospital, occasionally.

Oz’s father, Zai, was usually out of town, traveling, due to the wide area his business dealings had spread to – every once in a while, he would even leave the country. His home was more of a storage area for his furniture, personal items, and sons – Oz and Jack. On average, he came home only once every couple of months for two or three days.

Two or three days was hardly anything. Two or three days after months of being gone was practically nothing.

Zai, essentially, was a stranger in his own home. A stranger to Oz. A stranger to Jack. A complete stranger to his daughter, Ada, who he saw even less frequently due to her having been moved into a new house with her caretaker, Mrs. Kate.

Despite his status as a stranger, Zai found it in him to love Ada. Oz could understand this. Ada was a sweet, young child – only ten-years-old. She had a smile like sugar and sparkling eyes and adored her family with the blind, innocent passion befitting of someone her age. Ada had also been born just a year before Zai’s wife, Racheal, had died.

Racheal had been a wonderful mother, or at least she’d been everything Oz believed a mother was supposed to be. She’d been firm, but loving; a source of comfort; a safe haven; a place to run to for Oz and Jack when…

Despite his status as a stranger, Zai found it in him to be proud of Jack. This wasn’t love. This was a matter of social image. Oz could not understand this. Jack, Oz’s twin brother, was at the top of his class, was friends with everyone, and would occasionally be brought along with Zai when he went to galas because Jack was so capable of charming every- and anyone. Zai did not love Jack, he found him useful.

Jack was a good brother. He worried about Oz and tried to help Oz and supported Oz any way he could. It was all Oz could really hope for, in his situation. In fact, it was more than he deserved.

Despite his status as a stranger, Zai found it in him to hate Oz. He hated him and hated him and thought him a demon and wished him dead. Oz could understand this. Oz hated himself, too. Oz, the reason for his mother’s demise as she’d run to shield him from a car after he’d attempted to cross the street, thought himself a demon, too. Oz wished himself dead, too.

Oz wished himself dead.

This morning, Oz’s body ached. The alarm on his bedside table was ringing incessantly, alerting him that it was time to get up for school and if he hit snooze one more time he was going to be late. He turned the alarm off and slid out of his bed. He got dressed and tiptoed to the bathroom to fix his hair and wash his face and brush his teeth.

The key here was to be quiet.

Zai had come home yesterday.

Oz’s body ached.

Zai was still home today.

Jack was already in the bathroom, mostly finished getting ready. He paused when Oz came in and looked him up and down intently, worry in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked, just as he’d done the night before after getting home from his after-school activities and learning that Zai was back.

“I’m fine,” Oz replied, also the same as the night before. He wondered if he was holding himself strangely due to the throbbing pain of his bruises or if Jack was just worried.

Though he seemed unconvinced, Jack nodded. “I’m supposed to leave early this morning, but I don’t have to if you want me to wait for you.”

Oz entertained the thought, briefly, but shook his head. Even if Jack stuck around, he wouldn’t feel any safer – Jack had gotten caught in the cross-fire innumerable times over the years since their mother had died and it only served to make Oz feel even guiltier.

“I’ll be alright, you can leave,” Oz said. He walked up to the sink and set about getting ready.

Jack frowned, moved to leave the bathroom, stopped in the doorway and turned back. “Call me, if anything happens.”

“I will.” The words came out funny around the toothbrush in Oz’s mouth.

Seeming a bit relieved, but not looking like he felt any better, Jack slipped out of the bathroom and a minute later Oz heard the front door open and close.

........................

Roughly 20 minutes had elapsed.

Oz was no longer headed to school, as had been his original plan for the day, he was instead wandering aimlessly, though he supposed deciding on a destination would be a good idea.

His ears rang from Zai’s yelling. His face throbbed. His cheek burned. The latter two were the result of an antique vase, which had spent many years decorating the table in the dining room, meeting its end smashed against his head.

Zai, having at some point entered the dining room while Oz was getting ready in the bathroom, had called Oz over as he’d been going to grab his bookbag so he could leave and asked him a few questions. Oz supposed he must have answered one of them wrong because, in a sudden fit of rage, Zai had lifted the vase from its where it’d sat in the center of the table – never moved, never so much as touched –, revealing a ring of water-damaged wood and swung, hard and fast, at Oz’s face. The impact had caught his cheek and jaw, just barely missing his eye.

In the wake of his father’s yelling, Oz had fled the house. He had a hand clamped over his cheek; it was bleeding. He could feel the blood slipping between his fingers, but he didn’t think the wound was too bad since he could still open and close his mouth just fine – though the pain of doing so was nauseating.

Feeling a bit dizzy, Oz slowed his running to a brisk walk and assessed his surroundings. Though the houses didn't easily lend themselves to identifying one’s position in this neighborhood, Oz was fairly certain he was heading in the general direction of the schools. He came to a stop.

Just as his feet stilled, Oz was bumped into from behind. He stumbled forwards a little and, without thinking, turned around, confused.

The boy’s apology started up before Oz had even fully faced him, a loud, “I am so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going, are you alright?”

Oz was looking at a boy he recognized. This boy, Gilbert, shared his math class. He was an inch or two shorter than Oz with shoulder-length black hair that he tied back and a pair of hazel eyes. Oz often found himself staring at Gilbert rather than paying attention to the lesson. Oz thought his eyes were beautiful.

He also thought, as he watched those eyes widen in alarm and remembered the blood he could feel dripping down his chin, that turning around had been a mistake.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m totally alright,” Oz said, forcing his tone to be cheerful and waving his free hand around for emphasis.

If anything, rather than assuaging Gilbert’s concerns, Oz’s words seemed to drastically increase his worry, sending him into a flurry of panic. “You’re _bleeding_. Oh, wow! That is a lot of blood. Should I- should I-” Gilbert looked down at his phone, looked back at Oz.

Oz thought he might be trying to ask if he should call the hospital. Or maybe Oz’s parent? “No, no, don’t call anybody. It’s nothing. I’m okay,” Oz insisted. He placed his free hand over Gilbert’s phone, their fingertips touching. Gilbert’s hand was trembling. “Head wounds just bleed a lot, you’ve heard that before, right?”

Gilbert still looked positively terrified, but he slowly lowered the hand holding his phone. Oz’s fell uselessly back to his side. “ _What happened_?” The words came out a whisper.

Oz… did not have a convenient lie stashed away for a wound like this. He opened his mouth then closed it, his cheek burning from the action, then cleared his throat. After another second with nothing coming to mind and Gilbert waiting so anxiously, Oz chose the route of changing the subject, asking, “Aren’t you going to be late for school?”

Gilbert blinked at him. He checked the time on his phone; Oz peered at it and, yeah, if Gilbert stuck around her much longer he was going to be late, that was probably why he was in such a hurry to begin with.

“Aren’t you-,” Gilbert began, then cut off as he raised his eyes and caught sight the blood again, “No, never mind, of course you aren’t going.” He bit down on his bottom lip, glanced back at his phone. He seemed extremely conflicted about leaving Oz alone.

“Hey,” Oz said, immediately gaining Gilbert’s full attention. “I’m heading home,” he lied, attempting to make his voice soothing. “I only live a block away, so I’ll be fine. And I’ll clean this cut up and it won’t look nearly as bad as it does right now. It’s nothing to worry about, I swear.” At least, Oz certainly hoped that was the case.

Gilbert, for his part, finally relaxed some. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m _really_ okay.”

Gilbert stared at him. Oz couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Alright, okay. In that case, I _do_ really need to go…” Gilbert took a step around Oz, hesitated, looked back at him. “Are you coming to school tomorrow?”

It was Oz’s turn to be completely confused. “Probably, why?”

“Do you think you could tell me what happened? If you don’t want to you don’t have to, it’s just… going to bother me otherwise.”

Tomorrow. “Sure.” Oz could come up with a lie by tomorrow.

Looking better, but still immensely worried, Gilbert gave a short wave and sprinted off towards their high school. Oz watched him leave, waited until he was a small figure over a full block away, and began moving again. He figured he could go to the park; wash his wound with the tap water and sit on the swings for a while.

.........................

"Gil? Gil!" Gilbert felt something whack the back of his head and spun around in his chair to glare at Sharon and the paper fan she held in her hand.

"What was that for?" he asked, rubbing the spot she'd hit.

"It was to get your attention since, for whatever reason, you've decided to stop responding to your name," Sharon said slowly, letting every ounce of her poise and elegance seep into her words as she daintily set the fan onto her desk. If you didn't know her you'd never guess how violent she could be when the situation warranted it.

"Sorry, I was-”

"In your own world? Gil, you shouldn't be zoning out in class. You're lucky the teacher didn't call on you today." Sharon crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair somehow maintaining her prefect posture. Xerxes materialized behind her, placing his hands, which _must_ have been hiding somewhere in his long sleeves, on her shoulders.

"I’m so disappointed in you, Gilbert. First you arrive late and then you don't even bother to pay attention? That's _quite_ unlike you," Xerxes said. Sharon glanced up at him, studied him, adjusted his bangs. "Would you care to explain yourself?"

Gilbert sunk into his chair, avoiding eye-contact while he muttered, "I got held up this morning. It was nothing special.”

"Is that so.” Xerxes sounded completely unconvinced.

"Has Oscar finished teaching the lesson then?" Gilbert asked, not wanting to dwell on the topic of what he’d been up to this morning. What he’d seen didn’t feel like something he should be sharing; at least, not before getting some sort of explanation for it.

Sharon nodded, replying, "Yeah and there’s still ten minutes left of class. I was going to ask you if you understood one of the problems, but I can see now that you’ve been somewhere else all hour.”

Gilbert grimaced. “Sorry. I can still take a look if you want.” He went to stand so he could move to the side of Sharon’s desk in order to help her better, but he didn’t get past standing up because as he stood, he bumped into someone walking past his desk.

There was the loud smack of a textbook hitting the tiled floor and the flutter of scattering papers as the person’s folder went flying, and then Gilbert, feeling terrible, was apologizing.

 _What's wrong with me today?_ Gilbert thought, agonized. _First Oz and now-_

He paused when he saw the irritated boy before him who’d taken a few steps away and was retrieving his textbook. It was…Oz?

"You're helping me pick this up," he said, as he stood back up, gesturing towards his scattered belongings – the folder, now nearly empty, and all of the papers that should have been inside of it. One of his earrings glittered, drawing Gilbert's attention.

No. Not Oz. From what Gilbert remembered from all of the times he’d looked at Oz, including this morning, Oz didn't wear earrings.

“Yes, absolutely, I’ll help you clean it up,” Gilbert said, raising his voice over Xerxes’s laughter.

"Woah Jack, what happened?" a brunette, that Gilbert recognized as Alice, asked. She was petite with long hair and an expressive face, even from across the room it could be possible to tell exactly how she was feeling.

" _He_ happened," Jack said, gesturing towards Gilbert. He passed the textbook to Alice – who set it on the desk nearest to her, despite it being occupied by someone else – and knelt to begin picking up his papers.

"I'm sorry. I should have been watching where I was going," Gilbert mumbled, kneeling down, too.

"It's fine. Just be a little more careful from now on." Jack reached for his folder, shoving the papers he’d already gathered inside. “Hey, Alice, have you seen my brother around today?" He scooped up another pile of papers and straightened them.

Gilbert’s grasping hands paused for a moment, his heart stuttering. After his initial flash of panic at the topic of Oz, he went back to gathering the papers trying not to be discrete about listening intently. Should he tell Jack what he had seen? He was his twin after all…

“No, I haven’t,” Alice replied. “He wasn’t at his locker this morning. Why, is something going on?”

Jack sighed, the breath coming out in a rush – it felt more like concern than exhaustion. “I don’t know. I told him to call me if anything happened, but…,” he trailed off and glanced at Gilbert as if he suddenly remembered that he was still there. "Uh, thanks." Jack took the pile of papers from Gilbert's hands. "You can go now. I've got the rest."

"Oh, okay, if you’re sure," Gilbert said, standing up, reluctantly. He walked the couple of steps over to Sharon’s desk while Jack swept up the rest of his papers, stood, and walked with Alice towards Oscar. The two of them whispered together.

Sharon and Xerxes chatted beside him, but Gilbert couldn’t focus on what they were saying. Jack’s concern had brought back his worry with renewed force.

Why would Jack have been expecting a call? That didn’t make sense, unless…

Gilbert frowned deeply, feeling horrified, and leaned heavily against Sharon’s desk. Could Oz being hurt be a common occurrence?


	2. Assessing the damage (Tuesday)

Oz sighed as he unlocked the door, letting himself into his home as quietly as possible – Zai’s car was gone, but it never hurt to be extra safe. Oz had thoroughly cleaned his wound with hot water and soap in the men’s bathroom at the park, pressing paper towels to it until the bleeding finally stopped. It was a jagged gash, bright red and a bit raised, but nothing that wouldn’t heal just fine with some ointment and a bandage.

He closed the door behind him and tiptoed to his room, taking off his shoes when he was inside. His bookbag lay near his bed where he’d left it. Oz walked past his bed to his desk, opening the top drawer. From inside, he grabbed a tube of ointment and a box of bandages. He squeezed the ointment onto his finger and gently massaged it onto his cut, then placed the largest sized bandage over top of it.

He stood still for a few minutes, just listening to the house. He heard a few creeks and general ‘house settling’ noises, but nothing that indicated another person was there with him. Oz relaxed. He didn’t really like being in such a large house by himself, but it was much better than being there with his father. And if Zai wasn’t in the house, it was very likely that he’d left on another business trip.

Since Oz and Jack were still just 17-years-old – not quite legal adults yet – and in high school, they couldn’t actually live on their own. As a result, their uncle had decided very soon after their mother had died, that he would watch over the two in place of Zai, saying that it was because his job was much less demanding than their father’s.

Back then, when Oz’s mother had died, Oz had heard their arguments – Oscar’s and Zai’s. Oscar had been so angry; yelling things about Zai abandoning his family and Zai insisting that his only family, now, was his daughter because how could he have ever considered two children whose births had nearly caused Rachel’s death to be his family and how could the one of them that had finally brought about her demise be anything other than a demon.

The arguments had raged and raged and Oz had cowered in his bed, crying endless tears because it was _his fault_. His father had said so. It was his fault.

He’d killed his mother.

And it should have been him. She shouldn’t have died. It should have been _him_.

Oscar worked as a math teacher at the high school, teaching the class that Oz shared with Gilbert. He had his own apartment, though it rarely saw any use. Sometimes, he snuck Ada over for visits.

Ada’s absence in the house was another thing Oz had learned about in detail due to conversations he’d overheard. Within a week of Rachel’s death Ada was being moved. Jack was supposed to have gone with her, though he’d stubbornly refused. Zai had tried to force him then to convince him, Oz’s ears picking up the whole conversation due to rooms that carried noise a bit too well.

He’d told Jack that Oz was the problem. That his killing Rachel proved that Oz was the dangerous one, the evil one, that Jack had been innocent the whole time – a natural misunderstanding due to his having been born a twin to Oz, who surely must have been the soul being responsible for Rachel’s critical condition upon their births because, honestly, how could Rachel, of all people, have had the misfortune of bearing not one, but two demons; it was simply impossible, so you must understand Jack.

Zai had talked on and on; of Oz being the demon and the necessity of removing Ada and Jack from his presence so he could not contaminate them. The whole thing had been very confusing to Oz’s young ears, but the overall message had gotten across loud and clear: Oz’s existence was a mistake, a source of misfortune, the reason for his mother’s death.

In the end, even with the threat of physical punishment for his disobedience, Jack had stuck around. As if to prove a point, he’d slept in the same bed as Oz that night. Oz had been both relieved and completely terrified; of what his father would do to Jack, of what his father would do to him.

Of what his existence would do to Jack’s if it turned out that his father was right.

‘Contaminate.’

At only seven-years-old Oz hadn’t known what that word meant, but it sounded frightening and the way Zai had spat it had left no room for doubt about how bad it was.

Much older and now aware of what ‘contaminate’ meant, Oz was no less afraid that Zai could be right. If anything, the fear may have gotten stronger with the passage of time because Jack was undeniably better than Oz.

He was braver than Oz and more strong-willed than Oz and loved by everyone. And Oz…

Oz was nothing.

Oz was nothing but a monster who had killed his mother; his presence was an infection. Oz was nothing but a boy, terrified that one day he would kill his brother, too.

..........................

When Jack got home from school Zai’s car was gone and the house was silent. His nerves shot from the worrying he’d been doing all day, Jack searched first floor then went to Oz’s bedroom – on the second floor, on the opposite end of the hall from Jack’s own. He knocked on the door, out of courtesy rather than necessity since only the bathroom and Zai’s study had doors that locked, and waited. When no answer came he let himself in.

Oz was laying on his bed, asleep, curled up on his left side. The window on the far wall, with its sheer curtain, lit the room in dim light. 

At the sight of Oz asleep, Jack’s anxiety skyrocketed. If Oz had skipped school and was sleeping in the middle of the day, at best it didn’t bode well for his mental state and at worst it that deterioration as a result of an incident with Zai. Jack walked quickly over to him. Oz’s body was hidden by his blanket, but the right half of his face was plainly visible. When Jack spotted the bandage on his cheek, he paused.

Jack debated waking Oz up to ask what had happened, but decided it might be better to let him sleep.

An hour later when Oz awoke and wandered downstairs, he was greeted with an early dinner, made by Jack. Oscar was still at the school, but should have been coming home soon.

Jack looked restless.

Oz sat at the dinner table, thanked Jack cooking for him, and ate, waiting for the inevitable questions that would come.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked. It felt like he was always asking this.

“I’m fine,” Oz replied. It felt like he was always saying this

Jack stared at him, stared at his cheek, stared at the table. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Honestly, what Oz really wanted was to go back to sleep – his head felt groggy and his limbs felt heavy.

“Alright.” Jack stood from his chair, right next to Oz’s and reached out, pulling Oz into a tight hug. It was a bit awkward since Oz was still sitting. Oz let himself be held, though he made no attempt to hug Jack back.

“What’s this for?”

Oz could feel Jack shrugging. “Just to remind you how important you are, I guess.”

Sometimes Oz could believe Jack when he said things like that. Today was not one of those times. Oz forced a laugh and shook his way out of Jack’s grip. He stood, gathering up his dishes to take them to the sink, a smile plastered on his face – light and airy, unbothered, untouchable.

Jack watched him walk away, wishing there was more he could do.

When Oscar got home and asked Oz about his bandage, Oz tried out his lie about cutting himself while shaving. For the first time in the many years since his lies had become commonplace after his father’s visits, Oscar didn’t look convinced – likely because he was well aware that Oz didn’t need to shave.

Oz felt the strangest sensation. Something like... unraveling.


	3. Interlude 1: Jack was jealous of Oz

Jack was jealous of Oz

Jack had no reason to be jealous of Oz. Oz’s misfortune far outweighed any aspect of his life that Jack could be jealous of. Jack was aware of this.

Jack sometimes hated Oz. Oz had done nothing to deserve even the briefest moment of his hatred, even the faintest inkling of his hatred. Jack _always_ hated himself for hating Oz.

The cycle was vicious.

Jack believed that Oz deserved better. Oz deserved so much better. Oz deserved a better father than Zai. Oz deserved a better brother than Jack, a brother who wasn’t tainted with jealousy. Oz deserved a better life.

Oz deserved to be happy.

Oz deserved to be happy because he had been there for Jack whenever Jack needed him. He’d done this back when they were young children and Zai had hated them both and he would still rise to the challenge in the present.

Oz, Jack knew, was so much better than he’d been conditioned by Zai to think and Jack wished there was a way he could make Oz see that.

Jack was jealous of Oz.

His reason was terrible and unreasonable and made it clear to Jack just how vile of a person he was capable of being.

Jack was jealous of Oz because Oz had Alice.

Oz had Alice and Jack could not have Alice’s older cousin, Lacie.

Lacie had been a stunning presence in his life; her laugh like chiming bells and her carefree, strong spirit everything Jack aspired to be.

Lacie had left last year, moved away. She wasn’t coming back. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going. One day she was there and the next she was just… gone.

Jack had been heartbroken, devastated, destroyed and Oz had been there with him through it all – supportive and understanding and trying his best to bring a smile back to Jack’s face.

And all he’d gotten for his efforts was Jack’s jealousy.

Jack was jealous of Oz

He was jealous of how Oz could look at Alice, talk to Alice, touch Alice. Seeing them together made his chest burn and that sickened him. Oz had such little happiness, how could Jack possibly want to take any of it away?

Jack was jealous of Oz and he hated himself for it


	4. Concern (Wednesday)

As soon as Gilbert entered Oscar’s classroom, he scanned the room for Oz. He’d practically been up all night, tossing and turning as he fretted and wondered and stressed over Oz’s wound and Jack’s suspicious behavior. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Oz so Gilbert walked over to his seat, disappointed and still lacking the answers he needed.

As soon as Gilbert sat down and began setting out his items for class, Xerxes, as was his specialty, manifested behind him with Sharon at his side.

“What’s got you all upset?” Xerxes asked, draping himself over Gilbert.

Gilbert shoved him away. “Nothing, I’m not upset.”

“That’s exactly what someone who was upset would say.” Xerxes moved around to the front of Gilbert’s desk and leaned on it, hands on the wood and his face brought closer to Gilbert’s than Gilbert really wanted it to be. “Have you seen the bags under your eyes this morning? They’re horrendous.”

“He’s right,” Sharon said, settling herself in her seat behind Gilbert. “Your eyes look awful. I have concealer for that if you want.” She reached into the purse she’d draped over her chair and pulled out a small makeup bag.

Gilbert touched the delicate skin beneath his eyes, growing self-conscious. He turned to face her. “Is it really that bad?” He’d gone through the entire morning, three full classes, looking like this.

Sharon nodded and beckoned him closer. “Come here, I’ll fix it.”

Gilbert turned more fully in his chair and leaned over, crossing his arms on Sharon’s desk, letting her do what she thought was best.

“So,” Sharon said, as she set to work, “why do you look like didn’t sleep at all last night?”

Gilbert contemplated that question. He was a bad liar in the best of circumstances and with his head held in place by Sharon’s grip on his chin, it would be difficult to avoid looking at her.

Gilbert decided that vague honesty was the way to go in this situation, and replied, “I was worried about something and had difficulty getting to sleep. I don’t really want to talk about it though.”

Sharon stopped blending the concealer into Gilbert’s skin, peering at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed with a hint of concern. She then hummed softly and resumed covering the dark circles under his eyes. “Well, if you decide you want to, I’ll listen. And I’ll even be sure not to tell Xerxes.”

Gilbert smiled at her.

Xerxes, having at some point sat down at his desk to the right of Sharon, whined, “That’s not fair.”

Sharon and Gilbert both ignored him.

Sharon was putting her makeup away, class due to start any second, when Oz slipped in the door. Gilbert lurched in his chair, startling Sharon and Xerxes – they looked from him to Oz, who Gilbert was staring at rather intensely. Oz met his eyes, mouthed ‘Sorry,’ and made his way to his own desk, two rows over from Gilbert’s with Jack on one side or him and Alice on the other.

The room had begun to quiet in anticipation of Oscar starting the lesson. Gilbert could just barely hear Oz telling Jack and Alice that he’d taken so long to get here because his history teacher had held him after to explain a project he was supposed to have heard about yesterday.

All hour Gilbert was pestered with notes from Sharon and Xerxes asking why he was suddenly so interested in Oz. Gilbert ignored them until he opened one with the question ‘Do you have a crush on him?’ written by Xerxes and a long trail of exclamation points added on by Sharon. He swiftly ripped out a piece of notebook paper, write a large ‘NO’ on it, and slapped it onto Sharon’s desk.

When the lesson ended there was only five minutes left of class. 

For Oz, one of those minutes were spent telling Alice his lie about cutting himself while shaving.

Alice reached out, saying, “Can I see?”

Oz intercepted her hand before her fingertips could so much as brush his bandage. He held her hand in his, linking their fingers, and dropped their joined hands to Alice’s desk.

“I would really appreciate it if you didn’t,” Oz said, smiling at her.

Alice frowned, her gaze flickering to Jack. Jack gave a slight nod. Alice’s hand tightened around Oz’s, supportive. Unlike Jack, Alice didn’t _know_ but she did have her suspicions and she’d made her stance on the matter very clear a long time ago, stating many times that Oz could stay with her if he wanted or needed. Out of stubbornness and an internalized belief that if Zai saw fit to hurt him he must deserve it, Oz had yet to take Alice up on that offer.

For Gilbert, three minutes were quickly eaten up by Sharon and Xerxes interrogating him on what they had decided was his much too defensive response to their guess about him having a crush. Though Sharon had been willing to respect Gilbert’s privacy when she’d thought something serious was wrong, apparently all bets were off when it came to his love life – or lack thereof.

Gilbert was still arguing with them when he saw Oz stand up. Alice came with him; their hands were joined. He said something to her and she sat back down, letting go of him.

As Oz began making his way over to Gilbert, Gilbert quickly changed tactics from attempting to convince Sharon and Xerxes that they were wrong to attempting to convince them to shut up. The latter went much better than the former since they were also able to see Oz approaching.

Gilbert stood, shooting his friends a look meant to convey for them to stay where they were, and met Oz at the front of the row of desks that Gilbert sat near the back of.

“Hey, Gilbert,” Oz said. “Sorry I couldn’t catch you before class started.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just glad you’re going to tell me what happened,” Gilbert said.

Oz nodded. They had a minute left of class.

“I’m afraid this is going to be pretty anticlimactic after you waited a whole day, but I had just cut myself shaving that morning.”

Gilbert’s first reaction was relief. “Oh, you-” His second reaction was confusion. He thought about the blood and he thought about Oz being outside and he thought, again, about the blood.

Oz could see his lie falling apart in the way Gilbert’s face scrunched up. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected it to go over well. The explanation didn’t add up with what Gilbert had seen; Oz knew that much, he wasn’t stupid – he just… had been absolutely stumped on ways he could have accidently made his face bleed. The shaving excuse was, sadly, the best idea he’d gotten. It was pitiful, really.

The bell rang before Gilbert could even begin to start figuring out how to go about questioning this explanation. In a moment of panic, his only thought being that he didn’t want Oz to leave before he got something that actually made sense out of him, Gilbert asked, “Do you go to lunch next?”

Oz blinked at him; Gilbert had been a bit more forceful than he’d intended, but embarrassment over that and at the sight of Sharon throwing him a thumbs-up from the corner of his eye didn’t make him stand down, he was too worried.

Oz grasped at the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging it and twirling it around his fingers as if he was nervous.

“No, I’ve got a class.” He glanced towards the door, Jack and Alice stood near it, Jack holding Oz’s math stuff. They still had to stop at their lockers to get what they needed for their next classes. “How about this,” Oz said, wanting to speed the conversation along, “we’ll go on a date after school and you can ask me whatever you want. Is that alright?” Oz didn’t wait for an answer before he started backing away. “I’ll wait for you at the main entrance.” Then he turned and hurried over to Jack and Alice and the three of them were leaving the classroom together.

Gilbert, who should have been in just as much of a hurry if he didn’t want to wait in a long line for lunch, slowly headed back to his desk. He ignored Sharon who was positively glowing as she congratulated him on asking out his crush and Xerxes who broke in, asking if it was true that Oz was dating Alice. They both became wrapped up in that topic, leaving Gilbert to his thoughts.

Oz had tried to lie to him.

Oz had tried to lie to him and Jack had expected a call ‘if something happened’ and Oz had been bleeding.

Gilbert felt a little sick, his stomach churning.

This whole thing… there was something really wrong going on.


	5. Sorting things out (Wednesday)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh, for those of you that have any idea what I'm talking about, as of this chapter the events of this fanfiction are going to be different than in the original. They were already deviating quite a bit, but now it's just going to be new content. I'm planning on putting The Major event of the original earlier on so that'll play out differently and after that it'll be completely new territory.

Oz had made plans to meet up with Gilbert because he was afraid that Gilbert would say something to somebody if he didn’t resolve the situation. The thought of Gilbert going to an adult with his story about Oz wandering around yesterday morning with a decently bleeding wound on his face had Oz anxious the whole rest of the day. Both Jack and Alice picked up on it, but he brushed their concerns aside.

When school finally ended, Oz packed up his bookbag – taking what he would need for his homework – and told Jack that he would be home later.

“Is this about whatever went on between you and that guy in math class today?” Jack asked. His eyes rolled skywards for a moment as he thought. “Gilbert, right?”

Oz nodded. “Yeah, that’s his name. It wasn’t a problem or anything. We were making plans to meet up.”

At that, Jack bodily turned to face Oz. “ _What_?” He looked stunned. “Really? Like a friend kind of thing?”

Oz decided that being insulted at how astonished Jack was at the thought of him getting a new friend would not help his situation, especially when Jack’s astonishment wasn’t exactly unwarranted. “Yes, like a friend kind of thing.”

“When did this happen?” Jack had moved on from astonishment to interest. And, if Oz wasn’t mistaken, he looked very happy.

Jack, though startled at this sudden development, was pleased. Oz making a new friend felt like a step in the right direction. They’d known Alice since before their mother had died. Afterwards, while Jack had remained friendly with everyone, Oz had become withdrawn and closed in on himself. He would respond if spoken to, but never seemed to begin conversations and he’d never gone out with anyone other than Jack or Alice. If he was starting to open up to people again… Jack felt hopeful.

Oz put on his bookbag on and closed his locker. “Oh, uh, it’s a really recent development,” Oz replied. “I’ve been curious about him since the school year started though.” The second part was completely true and was added on in the spur of the moment as an attempt at making the lie that he’d suddenly gotten himself a friend a bit more believable.

Oz laughed softly to himself, remembering the reason for his curiosity. It had been the first day of school, a month ago, and Gilbert had been introducing himself in Oscar’s class – Oscar being the kind of teacher that liked to do icebreakers. Gilbert had stated that he was, “terrified of cats,” as his interesting fact about himself. Oz had wanted to ask about it ever since and that had translated into discreetly staring at him during their class together which, in turn, had rather quickly turned into admiring him from afar.

Jack smiled at Oz. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything to me about it.”

Oz shrugged. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

Jack turned to his locker and went back to gathering up the things he needed. “Alright, well, I’ll tell Oscar that you’re busy. When you think you know around what time you’ll be home you should call and let him know.”

“I will,” Oz said as he took a couple steps back, waving. “See you later.” Jack waved back and Oz turned on his heel, heading in the direction of the main entrance.

As he walked, Oz couldn’t shake Jack’s smiling face from his memory.

Guilt over having lied to him set in quick.

When Gilbert got outside, Oz was already waiting for him. Gilbert ran up to him and they exchanged ‘hello’s.

“So,” Oz began, “I’m free all evening to get this situation sorted out with you.”

Gilbert frowned. “Do you actually think it will take all evening?”

“I don’t know. How interested are you in going to an adult? Because I’m mostly here to talk you down from that.”

Gilbert could not deny that he had been seriously considering taking that course of action. “I… can see how this might take some time.”

They stood on the sidewalk in front of the parking lot, cars slowly driving past and many students walking by, chatting with one another. A few strings of gossip reached their ears, but neither of them allowed their attention to be diverted.

“Is there some place you want to go while we have this conversation?” Oz asked. “I’m not all that picky and it’s not like we can’t have fun while we do this, right?” He was smiling, but something about it felt vacant. It unsettled Gilbert.

“Well,” Gilbert began, his suggestion and his sensation of being unnerved making him hesitant, “in case this does end up taking a while, do you think we could talk at my house? My mother works late and my brother should be home by now since the middle school lets out a little earlier. He’s only 12 so he shouldn’t actually be left home alone for very long, you know?” Gilbert was fidgeting with his hands, squeezing and pulling and lacing his fingers together – it wasn’t every day he invited someone to his house; inviting a person he wasn’t familiar with felt uncomfortable and nerve-wracking.

When Oz nodded, Gilbert felt immense relief.

“I’m okay with that,” Oz said. “As long as this isn’t secretly a kidnapping or something.”

Gilbert didn’t catch on to Oz’s comment about kidnapping being a joke until his flurry of assurances and apologies was met with laughter. Loud, bright laughter that had Gilbert pulling up short. A wide smile had spread across Oz’s face, a real smile, and in the afternoon sunshine he was positively glowing.

Gilbert found himself thinking, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Oz, like this, was beautiful.

As soon as the thought finished forming, he flushed – his body becoming hot despite the chilly October air. The word ‘crush’ flashed across his mind and he felt himself grow even warmer.

Gilbert looked away from Oz, blaming the direction his thoughts had gone on Sharon and Xerxes and their earlier, completely unfounded, insistence that he must have one. After all, now was definitely not the time for such thoughts and Gilbert had only really begun thinking about Oz at all yesterday.

Gilbert couldn’t have a crush. Gilbert didn’t have a crush. A crush couldn’t just develop over the course of a few seconds of being laughed at.

Could it?

....................

While they made the walk to Gilbert’s home, their conversation stayed deceptively casual.

Oz asked some questions about Gilbert’s family and Gilbert asked some back. Oz learned that Gilbert didn’t have a father. Gilbert learned that Oz’s father was, essentially, absentee.

Oz asked about Gilbert’s fear of cats and Gilbert, shuddering, opted out of telling the story behind that despite Oz’s pleas.

Gilbert asked if Oz had any fears and Oz, after a few moments of hesitation, had replied with a resounding, “No.” The only fears he could think of weren’t things he really wanted to share. Gilbert stared at him incredulously, but Oz refused to back down insisting, “There’s nothing to really be afraid of.”

Beneath the Oz’s cheery tone, Gilbert thought he could hear a hint of tightness, a hint of something not quite right. He wanted to bring it up, but, with no idea of what was actually wrong, he wasn’t sure how to go about it.

They passed the spot where Gilbert had run into Oz yesterday and turned left at the corner. Oz pointed over his shoulder with his thumb and said, “I live about a block away from there.”

Gilbert looked at Oz, then glanced over his shoulder. “That’s convenient,” he said. “You live really close to me. I’m relieved, I was kind of afraid my house would be really far out of the way for you.”

Oz thought about how he lived mere blocks from the schools and the park and the hospital and, now, Gilbert’s house. “Yeah,” he said, “my house is in a pretty convenient location for a lot of things.”

When Gilbert stopped, it was in front of a house that could be differentiated from the others by its dark blue exterior window shutters. Gilbert unlocked the door and stepped aside to let Oz in. He shut the door behind them and asked Oz to remove his shoes.

The house opened into an entryway that morphed into a short hallway. Immediately to the right was a doorway that looked in on a living room. Up a little further ahead and to the left was a staircase. Past that was another doorway.

The house was not silent. At a glance Oz couldn’t see anyone in the living room, but he could hear noise coming from the television.

“We can go sit in the dining room,” Gilbert said. He began walking in the direction of the second doorway, Oz following behind. As he passed the staircase he yelled, “Vincent, I’m home.”

Oz jumped at the suddenness of Gilbert having raised his voice. He hoped Gilbert didn’t notice, but with the way his eyes had flicked over to Oz, Oz didn’t think he would be that lucky. In the dining room Gilbert dropped his bookbag down near the table. Oz followed suit and pulled out a chair to sit in.

As Gilbert moved into the attached kitchen he asked, “Do you want something to eat or drink? I could make you a sandwich and I know we’ve got juice.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

While Gilbert was busying himself with making each of them a sandwich and Oz was examining his surroundings, a younger child came into the room. He paused in the doorway and he and Oz stared at each other.

“Who are you?” the boy, Oz assumed he must be Vincent, asked.

“I’m Oz,” Oz replied. “A, uh, friend of your brother’s.”

That seemed to be all that Vincent cared to hear because as soon as Oz finished talking he made his way over to Gilbert. “Does this mean you’ve stopped being friends with that weirdo?”

Gilbert sighed. “No, I have not stopped being friends with Xerxes.” He sounded tired.

Vincent’s already frowning face grew even sulkier. “Oh.” He walked back into the dining room and sat down next to Oz.

“I haven’t heard about you,” Vincent said. “Gil didn’t meet you through the weirdo, did he?” Vincent appeared to be trying to put as much seriousness into this question as he could manage, but his young age and babyface ruined it a bit.

Oz smiled at Vincent, thinking his valiant attempt at keeping ‘weirdos’ away from his brother was cute. “No, we met because we’re in the same class.”

Vincent made a face, muttering, “He met _that guy_ in class, too,” before leaving his chair. He then proceeded to climb on top of it, standing up and looking down at Oz. With his hands on his hips he declared, “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, for now, but I’m not afraid to beat you up if I have to.”

Gilbert ran over halfway through Vincent’s announcement, telling him he was not supposed to be standing on the furniture and apologizing to Oz and begging Vincent to just come down.

Oz had never witnessed anything like this in his life and, as he was very familiar with Alice and her boisterous personality, that was saying something. He held back his laughter, met Vincent’s eyes, and gravely replied, “I won’t let you down.”

Vincent, evidently satisfied with that, nodded and climbed down off of the chair. “You’re welcome,” he said to Gilbert, once his feet were back to being firmly planted on the ground.

Gilbert glanced helplessly between the two of them before choosing to address Vincent first. “Right. Thank you, Vince. But I’ve told you before you don’t need to threaten my…,” he paused and looked at Oz, then returned his gaze to Vincent, “my guests.”

“But if I didn’t do it, who would?”

“That’s, well, that’s the _point_.”

Oz leaned towards them, his hands falling onto the vacated chair, and said, “Don’t worry about it Gilbert. He’s just protecting you.”

Vincent nodded vigorously. “Yes, that’s right. I’m protecting you.”

“Don’t you feel protected?” Oz was grinning, widely.

“I…,” Gilbert began. Both Vincent and Oz were staring at him, their eyes sparking for entirely different reasons. “Yes,” he said, resigned. “Yes, I do Vincent. Thank you.” Vincent beamed at him and he reached out to ruffle his hair. “Now, is it alright if Oz and I talk alone for a while?”

“Alone?” Vincent asked. “Is it something serious?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty serious.”

Vincent stared at Oz so intensely that Oz actually started to feel uncomfortable. He leaned back and shifted in his chair. “Did he do something wrong?”

“No!” Gilbert rushed to assure him. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

“It’s just older kid stuff,” Oz said. He began absently picking at the bandage on his cheek, nerves about the conversation to come finally setting in. When he realized what he was doing he forced himself to stop.

“Yeah, it’s nothing you should worry about.”

Vincent looked at Gilbert, stared at him as intensely as he had been staring at Oz. He took a few steps further away from Oz, beckoned Gilbert to bend over, whispered, his hands cupped around his mouth, “But you look really worried.”

Gilbert grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine Vince,” he whispered back. “Really. We just need a little time alone and it’ll be fine. Trust me, okay?”

Vincent, though he still appeared hesitant, agreed to leave the room. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and said, “You can call me down if you need me,” before going up.

A silence descended, broken by Oz’s, “Well, that was adorable.”

Gilbert shook his head, going into the kitchen area to finish up making their sandwiches. He came back out, balancing their plates and cups, a few seconds later and sat himself down across from Oz.

“So,” Gilbert said, pulling the crust off of his sandwich while Oz took a long drink of his juice, “you tried to lie about that cut. Didn’t you?”


	6. The truth (Wednesday)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished the other fic I was in the middle of posting so I'm gonna devote myself to this one and hope I finish before August ends.

When Oz explained, he tried his best to remain vague while still giving a reasonable answer. The story came out fragmented – separated by long pauses while he ate and drank; more as a means of allowing him to compose himself than because he was actually hungry or thirsty. As he talked he couldn’t meet Gilbert’s eyes and he thought his voice sounded like it was coming from far away. All he could feel was his aching bruises and the stinging in his cheek.

Oz laughed – lighthearted, though even he could pick up on the hollow edge to it – while admitting that Gilbert was right, he had lied about the shaving thing. He added that usually his lies weren’t quite so bad.

Oz mentioned that the cut had been caused when something had hit him. He did not mention how he’d gotten hit.

Oz mentioned that the object had been sharp. He did not mention that it hadn’t started out that way; that the sharp edges had formed from the force of it being smashed against his face.

He mentioned that he’d been dazed when he’d left his house. He did not mention the fear and desperation to get away that had driven him to running out his front door. He did not mention that he spent most of the day at the park, staring off into space while sitting on a swing – idly pushing at the ground, causing a rhythmic back and forth motion that made time feel endless. He did not mention that he hadn’t wanted to go home. He did not mention that if it weren’t for his stomach’s persistent aching, angry that he’d skipped breakfast and was on the fast track to skipping lunch as well, he may not have gone home until the sun set and the cold night air swept over his body.

Oz did not mention many things.

While Oz spoke, Gilbert stayed quiet. He listened, nodding his head whenever he felt it was appropriate. He was concerned about how much of Oz’s explanation was vague, but feared that asking questions would leaving him without answers entirely.

Gilbert wanted to understand what had taken place even while his suspiciousness beginning to solidify struck him with a deep sense of fear. He knew very little, but Jack’s concern the day Oz had gotten hurt and Oz’s evasiveness spoke volumes.

Gilbert found that he could not finish his food, could barely swallow tiny sips of his juice; his stomach was twisted up in knots. Abandoning any attempts at eating, Gilbert settled his hands around his cup and held it tightly, needing something to ground himself. Condensation made his skin damp and the coolness from the juice seeped into his palms as it stole his warmth.

Oz finished what he had to say with a shaky breath and, “So the whole thing is really nothing you should be concerned about.”

Gilbert wanted to argue that it was, in fact, something he should be and still was _very_ concerned about. He wanted to, but was afraid of turning this into even more of a confrontation than it already was. If Oz started avoiding him Gilbert would lose any opportunity he had to help him.

He wished he knew how to help him.

Gilbert, his hands maintaining their death grip on his cup, felt completely out of his depth. Unsure of what to do or how to voice his worries, Gilbert simply said, “Okay,” and tried to smile despite how his eyes kept gravitating to Oz’s bandage.

Oz glanced in the direction of Gilbert’s kitchen. The time displayed on his oven showed that it was after 6:00 p.m. “It’s starting to get a little late,” Oz said. “I should probably go home. Unless there’s anything else you wanted to ask?”

Oz looked back at Gilbert. He still appeared to be on edge, his shoulders looking tense, but the airy grin on his face stood out in stark contrast to that.

“No?” Gilbert replied.

Oz quirked an eyebrow, likely in response to what should have been a statement having come out like a question.

Gilbert cleared his throat, embarrassment and panic lacing through him. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t voice his suspicions. But he _really_ wanted to say _some_ thing. Leaving their discussion to end as it was felt wrong. Incomplete. Unresolved.

Gilbert took a sip of his juice, forcing it down, to buy himself time. His thoughts circled rapidly as he debated what he could say, settling on, “Not a question. I just want you to know, if you ever need anything you can ask me. Or if you want to talk about something I’m willing to listen. If…,” feelings of awkwardness and discomfort and idiocy assaulted Gilbert as he realized he was saying this to somebody he’d never really even talked to before the other day, “if you want to.”

Gilbert risked a glance at Oz, lifting his gaze from where he’d resolutely settled it staring in to the depths of his cup. Oz looked, frankly, astonished and that, in turn, astonished Gilbert. Oz’s eyes were slightly widened and his mouth had dropped open a bit, he looked as though he was struggling to figure out how to respond.

“You don’t have to! I was just, you know, offering.” Gilbert said this in a rush, his hands flying off of his cup to gesticulate wildly as he spoke.

Gilbert’s sudden, animated response seemed to break Oz out of his stupor and he giggled lightly – a gentle smile on his face and a sweet fondness coming over his eyes. That look hit Gilbert like a gust of wind, stealing his breath and leaving him with the certainty that Oz should be able to look like that all the time.

“Thank you,” Oz said. “I appreciate it.” As the humor of the moment slipped away, Oz pressed his lips together, a thoughtful expression falling over him, and he slowly said, “I appreciate it, but why?” His gaze on Gilbert was searching. “We don’t know each other outside of this whole mess,” one of his hands was thrown out and made a circle, meant to encompass every interaction they’d had since running into each other Tuesday morning, “so why would you offer?”

Gilbert dragged his bottom lip between his teeth and considered his answer. “Well,” he began, “I, uh, guess I just want to?” He abandoned his cup to start fiddling with his fingers. “That is kind of weird isn’t it. We’re basically strangers and I’m asking you to confide in me. Um.” Gilbert’s fiddling quickly turned into hand wringing. He could barely look at Oz as he said, “We could try being friends?”

At that suggestion Oz’s expression turned unreadable. He placed a finger to his lips and tilted his face upwards, considering.

Gilbert’s nerves had him pressing on, rambling. “If that would make it less weird for you. We don’t have to. This isn’t completely out of nowhere either? I mean, it was nice talking to you on the walk to my house and I’ve noticed you in class and around school and thought about talking to you before now, but I’m not really the, uh, the best at that.” Gilbert could feel a blush crawling up his face with that confession.

It was true. Since the beginning of this school year last month Gilbert had sort of wanted to talk to Oz. It had been a new experience for him; he didn’t make new friends, he was satisfied with the ones he had and wasn’t a particularly social person. Since having established his friendship with Sharon and Xerxes in elementary school, Gilbert hadn’t felt the need or the desire to make his friend group any larger. But then he and Oz had ended up in Oscar’s math class together this year and something about him just… drew Gilbert in, made him have to fight back the urge to stare, made him want to talk to him.

It wasn’t a crush.

Gilbert didn’t think it was a crush.

If it was a crush surely Sharon and Xerxes would have noticed before his interest had become driven by worry.

It wasn’t a crush, but with Sharon’s and Xerxes’s voiced whispering the word to him in his head, Gilbert was becoming confused.

Oz perked up following Gilbert’s confession, his finger dropping from his mouth. He looked conflicted, but that didn’t stop a, “Sure,” from coming out of his mouth. “Sure, why not. Let’s be friends.”

Gilbert felt giddy relief and happiness wash over him. He was going to be friends with Oz. He had time to figure out how he could help him. “Great! I’ll-I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah.” Oz stood from his chair. “I’ll talk to you in class.” He gathered up his bookbag, pulling it on, then looked at his plate and cup.

“I’ll take care of the dishes, don’t worry about it.”

Gilbert walked Oz to the door. They said their goodbyes and Gilbert waved to him after he’d reached the bottom of the steps.

A sudden thought hit Gilbert and he called out, “By the way, you can call me Gil. Like my friends do.”

Oz turned around, said, “Alright, Gil,” and with a wave he was making his way down the sidewalk towards his house.

Oz had never gotten the chance to inform Oscar of when he would be home since, in the end, he hadn’t been certain himself, but as he left Gilbert’s house and began his walk he made sure to text him, letting Oscar know that he was coming and should be arriving shortly.

Oz was feeling frazzled.

He was thankful for the cool air – it came in harsh through his nose, clearing up his head and making him feel more grounded. His limbs felt shaky, a side effect of his confession, and his heart was pounding, a result of Gilbert’s kindness and offer of friendship.

Oz… Well, Oz knew why he’d accepted becoming Gilbert’s friend. He’d been curious about him and liked to look at him and had liked talking to him, minus the whole serious discussion at his house, and wanted to know him better. None of this made Oz any less terrified. He didn’t make new friends. He had plenty of acquaintances, chatted easily enough with anyone who started up a conversation with him, but all he really needed was Jack and Alice.

Jack and Alice had always been with him. He trusted them. He trusted that they wouldn’t reject him.

Jack and Alice were more than he deserved, even. Much more than he deserved. They treated him so well though he’d done nothing to deserve it.

They treated him so well even though he was terrified that one day they might die because of him.

They treated him so well even though if he was truly a good person he would have made them leave him years ago, back when the danger of his existence had been made apparent.

Oz was happy Gilbert wanted to become his friend, but he was also terrified. So very, very terrified.

A conflicted mix of feelings settled over Oz, wreaking havoc in his stomach.

He wished he’d turned Gilbert down. He was glad he had accepted. He hated himself for feeling glad. The cycle continued his whole way home, vicious and painful and malevolent.

At his house, Oz riffled through his pockets to pull out his keys. It hadn’t occurred to him to wonder why Oscar hadn’t responded to his text until he got the door open. The yelling hit him like a bucket of ice water; shocking and chilling, a shudder running down his spine.

Oscar was a cheerful man. He was loud and boisterous and had only ever raised his voice to Oz when he’d done something dangerous. Hearing him shouting out of anger was new. It was new and it was bad. Oz felt like his chest was tightening. He stared down the entryway, hesitant to go inside while Oscar’s rage was reaching him so clearly. He couldn’t even tell which room it was coming from.

Jack appeared within in view of the entrance coming from the direction of the living room, on the right. His arms were crossed and Oz was given the impression that he had been pacing. Jack did a double take when he saw Oz standing in the doorway. His eyes were wide, startled, and stress was evident in the lines of his face. He glanced backwards – whether he was looking towards the kitchen, which lay just past the living room, or the staircase, in clear view of the entryway, was impossible to tell – then hurried over to Oz.

Jack grabbed Oz gently by the arm and tugged him inside, saying, “It’s cold out there, don’t just stand on the porch.” Jack closed the door behind him, Oz too busy staring into the house.

“What’s going on?” Oz asked.

“Oscar’s…” Jack began, immediately trailing off. Distress had fallen over him, looking completely out of place on his face. He took a deep breath, and dragged a hand through his hair. “Well, I suppose first I should say that he promised everything would be alright.”

Oz felt his blood run cold, his fingertips felt numb and a wave of dizziness shot through him as anxiety took hold of him. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“He didn’t believe you about,” Jack reached out, slowly, his fingers just barely brushing Oz’s injured cheek, “you know.” Jack withdrew his hand and though Oz desperately didn’t want to hear anymore, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Jack to stop talking. “I think he’s been concerned for a while, but your lie about cutting yourself while shaving convinced him that something was wrong. When he got home today he asked me a bunch of questions and said he wouldn’t let anything bad happen so I…”

“You told him?”

Jack nodded.

Oz was trembling. Fear laced through his body. “But if he _can’t_ \- If he’s wrong- Jack, if he can’t actually _do_ anything-” They would both be hurt. Seriously hurt. And on top of that, they may even be cut off from Oscar forever.

Oz was panicking, his breathing turning ragged.

Jack grasped Oz’s face between his hands, staring him directly in the eyes as he said, “It will be fine. You’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. It’s going to be _fine_.” He tried to sound confident, but inside he had the exact same fears as Oz. Zai was extremely wealthy. He had power and prestige and seemed, to both Jack and Oz, like an inescapable force. “Oscar promised,” Jack continued. “He promised.”

Oscar’s yelling continued in the background, outrage that Oz could now tell was in his defense. Outrage that would not be quelled until Oz and Jack were away from Zai.

Away from Zai.

Far away from Zai.

Oscar’s demand of Zai never so much as being in the same city as them echoed in Oz’s ears.

It all sounded completely impossible.


	7. Cheering up (Thursday)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, uh. 1. It's way past August: sorry, my energy's been super depleted since the last time I updated. 2. This shit's barely edited, but hopefully it's still acceptable.

Oz and Jack had slept together, sharing Jack’s bed. They’d felt more secure in each other’s company; their anxieties, though not appeased, having calmed a bit at not being alone. Sleep, however, had still not come easily. Mindless chatter from Jack had floated around the room as he’d whispered ceaselessly, a distraction from his thoughts, and Oz had been content to listen, responding occasionally, needing a distraction of his own.

As a result, when Oz woke up to Jack’s alarm he felt exhausted.

After Oscar’s call had ended yesterday he’d spoken to Oz and Jack gently, assuring them that he had everything under control. He’d then asked them to help him make dinner, filling the evening with his smiles and hesitant pats to Oz’s head and apologies – vague apologies, half-spoken apologies, hushed apologies, choked-up apologies; all of them about how long it’d taken him to realize.

Oz had hated the apologies.

They’d landed on him heavily, sticking in his ears and causing his mouth to burn with the need to correct Oscar – to inform him that having killed his mother was more than enough reason for Zai to cause him harm at the slightest of provocations.

The apologies had stacked themselves onto Oz’s guilt like bricks, weighing him down and filling him with a sense of fatigue that had had him going to bed early.

Somehow, throughout the evening, Oz had managed to maintain a small smile. He’d kept it light – unbothered, aiming for cheerful – though with every passing second, he’d been able to feel the hollowness in his chest growing.

The dread that had settled into his stomach during his talk with Jack upon returning home had tapered off soon afterwards, replaced by a feeling of disconnection and the beginnings of emptiness in his chest. Reality had turned to static in his head – fuzzy and indistinct and filled with holes – and everything following the change was a swirling mix of Oscar and Jack and movement and the press of words on his ears and the apologies that had expanded in his head.

Presently, Oz lay awake in Jack’s bed.

Jack’s alarm was still going off – a loud, obnoxious tone from his phone – while Jack groaned and patted at his bedside table for it, his hand hitting the wood with dull thuds a few times before he finally managed to grab onto it.

Oz could feel the beginnings of a headache setting in behind his eyes. He pushed the heels of his hands into them and, with the alarm turned off, desperately wished he could go back to sleep. After a few moments of lying there in silence, soft groaning the only sound to fill the air, both Oz and Jack reluctantly rolled out of bed and began getting ready for the day.

In spite of their exhaustion and the tense anxiety buzzing beneath their flimsy calm surfaces, they were pushed on by the familiarity of routine. Ever better, by choosing to focus all of their attention on their routines, it was almost easy to avoid their fear that everything could go wrong – not quite a perfect distraction, but good enough that their heartrates were under control and Oz wasn’t tensed to jump out of his skin at so much as the slightest creek of a floorboard.

Oz left Jack’s room, intending to head to his own in order to get dressed, when, as he was walking past the stairs, something completely out of the ordinary took a hammer to his fragile sense of calm, sending cracks splitting up its surface. Oz may not normally wake up as early as Jack, valuing his sleep more than early morning socialization, but he was positive that even at this hour Oscar should have already been out of the house. That being the case, there should have been no reason for there to be sounds and smells drifting up the stairs from the kitchen.

Oz paused at the top of the stairs, gnawing on his bottom lip. He felt jittery, heart pounding, fear cold in his stomach as he listened carefully, hoping to make out a voice. He waited a few seconds and when nothing distinct reached him, he hesitantly began creeping down the steps, careful to avoid the noisy parts of them. A little more than halfway down, Oz started to make out soft singing – cheerful and bright – and he felt himself relax. His teeth released his bottom lip, a relieved sigh slipping out of his mouth.

It was Oscar.

It couldn’t be anyone other than Oscar. He knew that voice just as well as he knew his uncle’s habit of singing while he cooked. Oz’s fear was swiftly replaced by confusion because, as a teacher, Oscar should definitely be at the school by now.

Oz made his way down the rest of the stairs, stopping in the kitchen’s doorway. Sure enough, Oscar was standing in front of the stove, his back turned to Oz as he flipped a pancake onto an already overly large stack of them, their platter set on the counter to Oscar’s right.

Oz tentatively took a step into the room concern beginning to mix with his confusion as he asked, “What’s going on Oscar?”

Oscar turned and, seeing Oz, flashed a grin in his direction. “Morning Oz!” he replied. “I just thought I’d make you boys some breakfast. Been too long since the last time I did that on a school day.”

Oz was relieved to see that Oscar’s usual liveliness had returned – a vast improvement from the stiff sorrow of the night before – but he still hadn’t been told why Oscar was home in the first place. It was setting him on edge all over again.

As Oscar turned the stove off, Oz said, “Yeah, it has been a while, but shouldn’t you be heading to work?”

“Nah.” Oscar waved a hand. “Taking the day off.” He laughed a bit, continuing, “The boss wasn’t happy with how last minute I called, but I worked my charm and got it off anyway. I’m just afraid my class won’t have a very good instructor today.” He turned back to face Oz, the smile on his face sheepish.

Oz felt apprehension like a shot of ice to his veins. There was no reason for Oscar to take the day off. He looked healthy and if he’d scheduled something today he would have alerted the school further in advance. Oscar didn’t _do_ last minute days off. Oz tried to keep up a smile of his own, but the suspicion that this had to be _his fault_ was making it difficult. He was just about to ask why Oscar needed the day off so suddenly when Jack came walking into the kitchen, stopping behind Oz and back leaning against the doorframe.

Jack took in the scene, a trace of confusion on his face, and asked, “Oscar? Why are you here?”

“Good morning Jack. Like I was just telling Oz here,” emphasized by Oscar walking up to Oz to ruffle his hair, “I’m not going into work today. I’ve got some… stuff I need to handle.” He moved past Oz and patted Jack on the shoulder. “There are pancakes on the counter if you want them.” As he slipped around Jack and through the kitchen’s doorway, he said, “I should be out of here in a few minutes. I’ll take care of that mess in the kitchen when I get home, don’t worry about it. I’ve got an appointment to get to right now. Make sure to call me if you need anything.”

“Alright Oscar,” Jack replied.

When Oz made no response, Jack looked over at him. Oz’s eyes were glued to the ground, his shoulders hunched in a bit. He looked small and tired and though Jack wasn’t sure what exactly had caused this, he could guess, easily enough, that it was somehow related to yesterday. As Jack went over to the cupboard to grab himself a plate, he gave a brief, reassuring squeeze to Oz’s shoulder.

Oz didn’t react, instead choosing to leave the kitchen and head back upstairs.

Oz took his time getting ready. The desire to go back to sleep had become even heavier in his limbs and made his mind foggy. As he changed he poked at his bruises. Most of them were pretty faded, but a couple were a deep, ugly blue-black and when his fingers pressed into them they throbbed. Oz also pulled the bandage off of his cheek and examined the cut in his bedroom mirror. It had lost the angry red in the surrounding skin that had persisted for the first two days and had completely healed over with thin scabbing. Deciding that it was still too noticeable to leave out in the open, Oz grabbed a bandage and ointment and took them with him into the bathroom for after he washed up.

Thoughts of burdening Oscar were persisted. 

They made Oz’s throat tight and set his stomach twisting. Fearing that forcing himself to eat would result in him throwing up, Oz chose to put the food that was left on the counter in the fridge and grabbed an apple just in case his appetite came back before lunch.

When Oz stepped out of the kitchen he was surprised to see that Jack had taken up residence in the entryway, looking ready to go but very clearly not making any moves to leave. The house had been so quiet Oz had assumed that Jack had already left. Oz’s gaze flickered back towards the clock on the stove, his surprise growing when he saw that it was definitely past the time his brother was usually out of the house. In fact, despite waking up early, it was actually nearing the time that _Oz_ would be leaving for school.

“Jack?” Oz said, catching his attention – Jack’s eyes focusing, the distant look on his face gone with a single shake of his head. “Where you waiting for something?”

Jack frowned, checked the watch on his wrist. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t notice how late it was getting.” He pulled his bookbag up, from where it lay at his feet, onto his shoulder. “Do you want me to wait for you? We could walk together?”

Oz considered turning him down.

He considered it, but Jack looked pale and tired.

He considered it, but he himself felt exhausted and anxious.

He considered it, but in the end, he really didn’t want to.

“Sure. Give me a minute, I need to grab my stuff.”

~ ~ ~

By the time third hour rolled around Gilbert, and quite possibly the entire rest of the senior class, knew that Oscar wasn’t at school. His unexplained absence was completely out of the ordinary and, as a favorite teacher of most, had sparked a buzz of gossip centered around concern for his well-being.

Gilbert had already been on edge – all worry and uncertainty that hadn’t been made any clearer after a night’s rest – from his talk with Oz. The gossip about Oscar – brash and fevered, ranging from speculation of a sudden illness to the possibility of a car accident – slipped into Gilbert’s ears and twisted into knots in his stomach, winding him up even tighter and making him feel that if he didn’t get a break from his non-stop worry soon, he would begin to lose hair from the stress.

When he entered Oscar’s classroom the first thing Gilbert noticed was that the rumors about Oscar’s absence were correct. Seated at his desk was the person Gilbert assumed must be their substitute for the day.

The second thing Gilbert noticed was Oz – in his usual seat with Jack and Alice on either side of him. For the briefest moment Gilbert felt the fluttering thrum of nervousness, unsure whether to approach him or not, but it was almost immediately replaced by a surge in his worry.

As Gilbert walked past Oz’s desks, he took in the shadows under Oz’s eyes and the weary tint to his smile. Oz appeared to have hardly gotten any sleep last night. Gilbert found himself pausing for a moment and their eyes locked.

As soon as it happened, Gilbert whipped his head in the opposite direction – more of an automatic response to having been caught staring than because he actually wanted to. He continued walking – head down, face burning, worry clawing at his insides – and didn’t look up again until he was seated at his own desk. Sharon and Xerxes both gave him very pointed looks and Gilbert pretended he didn’t notice, organizing his supplies for class.

Sharon, not being one to be ignored, promptly poked him right between his shoulder blades with the sharp tip of her pencil. Gilbert yelped softly as she asked, “What was that about?”

Before Gilbert could supply some sort of answer, Xerxes interjected with, “He’s still staring at you.”

“What?” Gilbert said, startled. His eyes shot over towards Oz’s direction and, sure enough, he was being watched.

A second passed and then Gilbert lifted a hand and waved; a small, uncertain, jerky motion. Though Oz looked no less exhausted, his expression seemed to relax for a few moments as he waved back. And then, for some reason, when Oz stopped waving, his expression shifted once again. It became pensive and withdrawn and this time it was Oz who broke off the staring, his eyes dropping to his desk.

In contrast to Oz’s action, their eyes having followed the direction Oz’s waving, Gilbert suddenly found himself the center of attention for Jack and Alice.

Jack smiled and waved at Gilbert, who waved absently back, still mostly focused on Oz as he deflated, shoulders slumping. Alice, on the other hand, looked between Oz and Gilbert a few times before she settled a calculating look on Gilbert, the intensity of it making him flinch away upon accidently meeting her gaze.

“Well?” Sharon was asking. Like Alice, she was looking between Gilbert and Oz. Gilbert risked a glance back in Oz’s direction and was relieved to find that Alice had taken her eyes off of him in favor of whispering to Oz. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Gilbert murmured. “Nothing’s happening.” He turned to face the front of the room, wanting to put an end to the conversation with Sharon and all of the staring going on that was, frankly, making him uncomfortable by this point.

Gilbert was saved from Sharon’s stubborn insistence when the teacher stood up and began to introduce herself. Throughout the lesson, Gilbert found himself being drawn into the notes Sharon and Xerxes were passing back and forth; starting with refuting Xerxes declaration that love was the explanation for all the staring and ending with informing them of how terrible they were when the conversation evolved into a discussion on whether or not Gilbert was capable of stealing Oz from Alice.

The lessons ended with ten minutes of class remaining. As Gilbert closed his notebook and textbook and set about putting his pen and pencil away he wondered if he should go talk to Oz. The distraction of math now set aside, Gilbert’s worry was beginning to creep back up and, besides, he’d been the one to tell Oz that they should be friends, something they couldn’t very well do if they never interacted.

However, regardless of those two very compelling facts, Gilbert was finding leaving his seat and approaching Oz difficult. There was a reason he only had two friends and his shyness certainly wasn’t cutting him any breaks today no matter how important saying so much as, “Hello,” to Oz was.

Gilbert was desperately wondering where the bravery that had allowed him to confront Oz had gone to and how to get it back, when he saw Alice stand. She walked over to Oz’s desk and grabbed up one of his hands, tugging him, trying to pull him out of his seat. Gilbert watched as Oz resisted, only to relent a few moments later, after Alice leaned in and whispered something to him. He stood, spoke to Jack, and let himself be led by Alice towards the front of the class.

For the third time that day Gilbert and Oz’s eyes met.

“Do you think they’re coming over here?” Xerxes asked, placing his hands on Gilbert’s desk and leaning down. Gilbert glanced up at him, not liking the sly smile he was met with.

“No, I don’t think-,” Gilbert began, his words dying in his throat at the sight of Alice taking a right when she reached the front of the row of desks, pulling Oz in what suspiciously _did_ appear to be Gilbert’s direction. “Why would they be?” Gilbert asked instead, nervousness fluttering through his stomach. Oz coming over he could understand. Alice not only coming with him, but being the driving force behind the visit was nerve-wracking. What could she possibly want with him?

Gilbert heard a scraping sound behind him and then Sharon was at his other side, expression twisted up with concern. “Alice was staring at you pretty intensely earlier,” she whispered.

“So she’s coming to warn him away from stealing Oz then,” Xerxes said, shaking his head pityingly at Gilbert.

“You don’t think she’d hurt him, do you?”

Xerxes tilted his head, lifting a hand to his mouth as he considered. “I suppose it’s a possibility.”

“Oh, for the last time!” Gilbert angrily whispered, trying to push down the panic that they were right. His gaze flew between Sharon, Xerxes, and Alice as she progressed ever closer. “What happened yesterday wasn’t a _date_!”

Sharon’s concern morphed into a pout, her arms crossing over her chest. “Must you steal this from me?” she asked. “I have so much knowledge about romance and it’s all going to waste! Who am I supposed to advise and cheer on if you’re not interested in anyone? Xerxes would never tell me even if he was; you’re my only option here.”

“I’m… sorry?” Gilbert whispered, only giving her a small part of his attention, the rest of it zeroed in on Alice and Oz as they began walking down the aisle towards Gilbert’s desk. “Could you please stop talking now, though, before they hear?”

Sharon huffed loudly with displeasure, but she didn’t speak again until Alice was in front of her. Alice’s hand was still firmly clasping Oz’s and she tugged him forward, causing him to stumble out from behind her; he stood directly in front of Gilbert’s desk.

As she addressed Alice, Sharon’s sulking demeanor did a complete 180. She beamed at Alice giving her a bright smile and a vibrant, “Hello.”

A second passed and then another, everyone watching Alice as her expression morphed into one of surprise.

When Oz felt Alice’s hand release his, quickly followed by her ducking behind him, both of her hands taking up residence on his shoulders, he felt a flash of fond amusement. For all of her grandiosity, Alice could be a bit shy and being faced with the full force of Sharon’s beauty certainly couldn’t have helped matters.

The whole point of this impromptu introduction, put on hold for the moment, was rooted in Alice’s concern for Oz. The second she’d laid eyes on him in their shared, first class of the day she’d known something was wrong. Ever since then she’d been testing the waters with casual questions. Though Oz had tried not to reveal too much with his answers, he was fairly certain she’d picked out Oscar’s absence today as a sore subject, having abandoned that line of questioning almost as soon as she’d brought it up.

Presumably in an inspired attempt to cheer Oz up, Alice, having heard about Gilbert from Jack, had said that she wanted to meet him when the math lesson ended. Oz’s evasion had only made her more determined and now here Oz was, standing in front of Gilbert despite his firm belief that it would be in Gilbert’s best interests to never so much as see him again.

In light of Alice’s pure intentions, Oz decided an introduction to Gilbert couldn’t hurt. An introduction didn’t mean he couldn’t fade out of Gilbert’s life. An introduction didn’t have to be followed up.

Oz gave a faint laugh – it sounded a bit off, hollow and strained, but it was the best he could manage at the moment. “Sorry about that,” he said to Sharon. “Alice is kind of shy and it seems your beauty has positively blown her away.”

Upon reaching the end of that sentence, Oz was met with Alice’s hands firmly squeezing his cheeks as she loudly proclaimed, “He’s lying!” She then carefully jerked Oz’s head back towards Gilbert and, while still hiding behind him, said, “You!” with a ferocity Oz was certain was only meant to mask her embarrassment. “I’m here to meet you. The three of us are hanging out after school today. I’ll be waiting by the entrance.” She released Oz’s face and grasped the hand she’d abandoned earlier. Her eyes met Sharon’s as she came out from her hiding spot and she said a brash, “Hello,” before dragging Oz away.

Oz was experiencing a few very different emotions as they went back to their desks.

The dismissal bell rang; a clear cacophony of sound that resounded with the sharp pangs of Oz’s anxiety. The plan had been an introduction. A meeting after school was a large step beyond an introduction. Fear and guilt wound themselves around him like barbed wire; viscous and painful – a reminder that just as he didn’t deserve to form any kind of friendship with Gilbert, he certainly didn’t deserve Alice and the sooner they went off to college and he could cut off contact with her the better.

The second set of emotions rose up in defiance of the first: the amusement and fondness from before growing stronger. They coiled around his negative emotions: lessened the ache, made it tolerable.

Deciding that the need to leave Alice was something to put off for another day, a day closer to the end of the school year when graduation and the separation that Alice would have no idea was meant to be permanent was impending, Oz leaned closer to her. He whispered, “Was it just me, or do you have a crush?”

Alice’s heated denials only made him more certain that he was right.

Sharon, Xerxes, and Gilbert stared after Oz and Alice as they walked away.

“Well,” Sharon began, “that was… quite interesting.”

Xerxes hummed in agreement. “But at least _you_ weren’t completely ignored.”

When the dismissal bell rang, Gilbert gathered his things in a confused daze. Getting to know Oz better was what he wanted, but… he hadn’t expected it to happen anything like that. To make matters worse, he had to admit he was intimidated of spending his evening with Alice. She appeared to have a very strong personality and her interest in him made Gilbert horribly nervous.

He would go; of course he would go. If anything, his need to help Oz was only strengthening as the days went by – a protective urge that, while Oz had been standing in front of him, had had Gilbert holding back the impulsive desire to reach out and place his fingertips to the shadows under Oz’s eyes, ask him what could have possibly kept him from his sleep, assure him that Gilbert would hear him out if that would offer him any solace.

So, he would go.

He _had_ to go.

He just wasn’t sure how he felt about walking into an outing with Alice and Oz on his own.

A hand was placed on Gilbert’s shoulder. He jumped, looking over to see Sharon at his side. She was peering at him, the look in her eyes one of such intensity that it rivaled Alice’s stare from the beginning of class.

“Maybe I should go with you,” Sharon said. “Do you think they’d mind?”

Relief washed over Gilbert as he rose from his chair. “ _Please_ ,” he said. He, Sharon, and Xerxes began their walk out of the classroom. “I would really appreciate it.”

Sharon shrugged. “I don’t mind. To be perfectly honest, I’m interested in using this chance to get to know Alice. She seemed a bit odd, but she’s cute, isn’t she? I think there’s potential for a lovely friendship there.” A dreamy smile took hold of her features and she linked arms with Gilbert and Xerxes. “How exciting! This would be the first time I’ve ever had a girl as a friend; I swear they take one look at Xerxes and get scared away.”

“I’m insulted,” Xerxes grumbled. “If they’re afraid of anything, it’s your frightening intensity.”

Sharon glowered up at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a _delight_.”

“Of course you are.” Xerxes patted her on the head and, unable to stop himself, Gilbert began to laugh.

Sharon’s gaze flew between the two of them, indignation flaring to life in her eyes. “That’s does it! I’m through with _both_ of you.” She attempted to retract her arms from theirs, but both Xerxes and Gilbert held on tight – Gilbert telling her a few laughter-infused apologies while Xerxes assured her that if they couldn’t take her intensity they simply weren’t worth her time.

By the time they released Sharon so they could go to their lockers, she had been adequately appeased and Gilbert was feeling lighter than he had since before that Tuesday run-in with Oz.


	8. Group Outing (Thursday)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things. 1) Honestly, is this chapter coherent because I wrote a vast majority of it over a single day and have barely looked it over. 2) If you see grammar errors pls hmu. 3) As of this chapter I believe we are moving pretty solidly into the comfort and healing portion of this fic. 4) I've lost control of my plans for this fic and am re-planning how to reach the ending. It's definitely gonna be longer than I anticipated.

By the end of the school day all Oz really wanted was to go home and take a nap. Or maybe just forego the nap and go to sleep for the night. Slipping away, however, was impossible when Alice swooped in and latched onto his arm, her eyes positively sparking, as he was closing his locker.

“See you tomorrow Jack,” Alice said, giving Jack a little wave, her gaze barely sliding over to him for a second before it was once again trained on Oz. Her excitement was practically pouring off of her in waves.

A look of confusion crossed Jack’s face, quickly replaced by understanding. “Ah, right,” he said. “Oz is introducing you to Gilbert.” He smiled at both of them. “Have fun.” To Alice, “Make sure to tell me all about it.”

Alice nodded her head gravely, as if she’d just been imparted with an important mission. Oz felt a light flush of embarrassment at the thought that they might actually view it that way – Gilbert being, in their eyes, a mysterious new friend to be investigated, interesting solely for his ability to have captured Oz’s attention.

“It’ll be an interrogation,” Alice promised. “I’ll show no mercy.”

Oz and Jack both laughed at that, Oz somehow getting out, “Please, Jack, take it back. She’s serious.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that Oz. She’s already determined.” Jack patted Oz on the shoulder. “Give Gilbert my condolences.”

~ ~ ~

Gilbert had been waiting for them with Sharon and Xerxes. When Oz and Alice had arrived Xerxes had, rather strangely, said, “Oh! I see it now. I see it.” He’d then nudged Sharon, continuing with, “Looking at Alice you get the kind of urge to pinch her cheeks.” Sharon had then proceeded to try her best to clamp her hands over Xerxes’s mouth, assuring Alice and Oz that what he’d said meant nothing and could be completely ignored. Regardless of Sharon’s attempts at damage control, dislike for Xerxes had become firmly rooted in Alice and when asked if he and Sharon could take part in their outing, she’d been resolutely adamant about the impossibility of allowing Xerxes to come along.

In the end, Xerxes had given up, saying that he probably had better things to be doing anyway and Sharon hadn’t been opposed to tagging along without him.

Though the meet-up hadn’t gone quite as planned and Alice had gain a new ‘enemy’ out of it, Alice didn’t seem to mind how things had ended up turning out, gravitating to Sharon’s side with a slight, satisfied smile on her face. With Xerxes safely out of earshot Alice, in charge of picking their destination as the person who’d invited Gilbert out, announced that she was in the mood to go to the arcade – a small building only a block away from the schools, its windows flashing with the glow of neon lights and its sides flanked by an ice cream parlor and a candy store.

Unlike Oz and Gilbert, Alice and Sharon both had their own cars. When deciding how they would go about getting to the arcade, Gilbert was spared the possibility of Alice’s promised interrogation as Alice tossed her keys to Oz.

“I’ll go with Sharon,” Alice said, by way of explanation. “Make sure nothing bad happens to my car.”

Oz rolled his eyes. “The only one to ever harm your car has been _you_.”

Alice had gotten her license the same year she’d turned 16, excited to try something new and in love with the theoretical freedom to go wherever she wanted – a freedom challenged by her curfew and the lack of fun places to go in their city, though that hadn’t stopped her from dragging Oz and Jack on late night trips to grocery stores, the rides home always a frightening experience as she raced the clock to beat her curfew.

When summer had rolled around this year and Oz and Jack still hadn’t begun drivers training, Alice had taken it upon herself to teach them. Neither of them had exactly been opposed to learning, Jack admittedly more interested than Oz, but neither Zai nor Oscar had ever brought the possibility up and Oz and Jack had never felt the desire to push the matter. Learning to drive from Alice had been a harrowing experience, but Oz at least felt confident in his ability to drive to the short distance from the school to the arcade without any mishaps.

Alice payed Oz’s teasing insult hardly any mind, merely sticking her tongue out at him in retaliation.

“My car’s over that way,” she made a vague gesture in the direction Oz was facing away from, “and all the way in the back row. Want me to show you?”

“No, that’s okay,” Oz said. “Your car’s pretty easy to spot. I’m sure we’ll find it.” His gaze shot over to Gilbert who was watching Alice and Sharon. Sharon herself looked a bit baffled, Alice’s decision on how to split up having clearly taken both of them off guard.

Oz gently poked Gilbert on the shoulder, drawing those beautiful eyes towards himself. “Let’s go?” Oz prompted, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Um,” Gilbert began, eyes trailing back towards Sharon. Sharon’s confusion had given way to enthusiasm. She linked arms with Alice, a wide smile on her face, quite obviously happy to have Alice to herself for a short while. “Yeah, sure.” Gilbert returned his attention to Oz, who was eyeing him curiously.

A moment went by before Oz gave a short nod and a, “Right, this way then,” and stepped into the parking lot, Gilbert following close behind him.

The silence between them was broken by Oz after they’d slipped past the first row of cars. Peering at Gilbert from the corners of his eyes and his tone unreadable, he asked, “Did you want to go with Sharon?”

Gilbert, unprepared for the question let a, “Huh?” slip past his lips before he’d even finished processing it.

Oz clasped his hands behind his back, his posture pulling taunt and his head lazily tilting upwards. They stopped before the next row of cars, Oz’s eyes analyzing the sky while Gilbert’s eyes fought to understand Oz. “Alice sort of decided how we should split up all on her own. You looked a little like you wanted to go with Sharon.” Oz dropped his gaze, flickering it over Gilbert before settling it on the ground.

Gilbert was thrust into the distinct impression that he was currently experiencing a crucial and potentially life-altering moment. He felt as though what he said right now would matter immensely and, though the answer was simple, Gilbert – as anyone currently experiencing such monumental pressure – choked.

“Oh! Is that- is- is- is that how it-? No! No! N-…no…” Gilbert’s sputtering was accompanied by a flurry of hand movements that tapered off with his words. What he’d wanted to come out of his mouth was some sort of reassurance and the explanation that any hesitance on his part had been only for the sake of Sharon who he hadn’t wanted to leave alone with Alice if she’d seemed even remotely uncomfortable. His failure to be coherent, let alone get any of that across, had Gilbert’s mouth contorting into a grimace. He considered slamming his head on the window of the car he stood near.

Oz lifted his head, placing a hand to his mouth, his shoulder shaking with laughter. “I’m flattered by your need to reassure me,” he said, the words winding themselves around giggles.

Gilbert could feel a blush creeping up from his neck and burning hot in his ears. Embarrassment pulsed through him, eased only by the relief that the reassurance he’d intended had ended up getting through somehow.

Oz, shaking off the last of his laughter, said a light-hearted, “Come on,” and slipped between two cars, continuing on towards the back of the parking lot.

As they walked, Oz tried and failed not to feel happy about Gilbert’s interest in him. Reminders to himself that he shouldn’t let their friendship go anywhere couldn’t quite pierce the glow brought on by Gilbert’s desperation to let Oz know that he wanted to be with him; Oz’s fear wrestling with his happiness and becoming easily overwhelmed by it.

Though he wanted to, Oz couldn’t deny that being wanted by Gilbert felt nice.

Sure, Oz had Jack and Alice and Oscar, all of whom made their love for him and his presence in their lives known. But there was something different about that same sentiment coming from Gilbert. Gilbert who didn’t have history with him, who had no reason to want him around, who could easily forget Oz if he wanted to because they’d just met earlier this week.

Gilbert and Oz were nothing to each other. But for some reason Gilbert _wanted_ them to be and this could not be explained away as nothing more than feelings of obligation due to a familial tie or childhood friendship – obligations Oz would never admit aloud to believing that Jack and Alice and Oscar were burdened by. And Oz…

Oz liked it.

Oz liked this anomaly.

Oz liked being forced to accept the unacceptable concept that maybe, just maybe, someone could want him around for no other reason than ‘because they wanted to know him’.

“I’m glad that you don’t mind,” Oz said, pushing his own conflicted happiness aside and focusing on the reason he’d asked in the first place. “See, Alice – and you didn’t hear this from me, by the way – Alice has a crush on Sharon.” They were going past the third row of cars when this revelation came out and Oz heard a loud thud and hiss of pain from behind him. He turned to look at Gilbert who was staring at Oz with wide eyes, clutching the elbow he must had slammed into one of the cars they were squeezing between.

“What!?” Gilbert exclaimed. “She likes-? But I thought _you two_ -”

With that, the confusion Oz was feeling was cleared up in an instant. “Oh. The rumors. Those aren’t true.” Oz began walking again, stopping near the trunk of a car to survey the final row laid out before of them. “Alice is a lesbian, actually. Could you maybe pass that on to Sharon for her?”

“That she’s a lesbian?” Gilbert asked. He brain was having a bit of trouble functioning after this sudden discovery, thoughts all tangled up in the realization that if Alice and Oz weren’t dating then _Oz was single_. Gilbert’s adamant denial of having a crush on Oz was challenged by the flurry of butterflies in his stomach and the hope he felt jolt through him, urging him to peer up at Oz – a tentative flickering of his eyes.

Oz was looking back at him. “Yeah. That she’s a lesbian.”

Gilbert was well aware that his blush from earlier was back with a vengeance. When Oz returned his attention to the cars, Gilbert’s relief was palpable.

“Honestly,” Oz continued, “Alice is really open about liking girls. I didn’t realize the rumor about us would still be going around. I’ll have to tell her, she’ll think it’s hilarious… Ah! There’s her car.” Oz took off towards the right, hitting the unlock button on Alice’s keys. The lights on a black car flashed. Rabbit ears stuck up from the front windows and a plethora of rabbit stuffies were spread out across the ledge of the back windshield. Upon closer inspection, trash littering the backseat and floor was also visible.

Oz got into the driver’s seat while Gilbert walked around to the passenger’s, both of them throwing their bookbags into the back – Gilbert hoping the trash wouldn’t swallow them whole. As Oz adjusted his seat and the mirrors Gilbert was left with nothing to do but watch him, absorbing, once again, just how exhausted Oz looked.

“Oz?” Gilbert began, hesitant.

“Hm?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Oz’s hand paused on the rearview mirror. “Why?”

“You look really tired. Did you not sleep well last night?” Gilbert folded his hands in his lap, tugging at his fingers nervously.

Oz’s hand slipped from the mirror and he dragged his fingers through his hair, huffing out a soft sigh. “Do I look that bad?” He turned to Gilbert.

“You look seconds from passing out, honestly.”

“Aw, Gil, isn’t that supposed to be where you tell me I don’t look bad and then stumble over some flattery?” Oz leaned forward resting the side of his face on the steering wheel, his lips set in a pout. His hair was messy from when he’d ran his fingers through it and Gilbert fought back the urge to reach out and straighten it.

Ignoring what he was fairly sure was teasing, Gilbert pressed on. “Is there a reason you weren’t able to sleep?”

Oz pressed his lips together, considering. The concern currently present on Gilbert’s face set Oz’s heart fluttering and Gilbert’s insistence from last night that he could talk to him if he needed to was pulled to the forefront of his mind. Coming to a decision, Oz shoved himself upright then leaned over the center console putting himself inside Gilbert’s space. Gilbert blinked at him, startled, but didn’t pull back.

“I have news for you,” Oz murmured. “You said you wanted to be my friend so I would have a reason to confide in you, but my problem is being taken care of.”

“Taken care of?”

Oz nodded.

“So…” Gilbert wasn’t sure what to think. Oz’s tone was serious, but what if he was lying? And even if he wasn’t lying, would resolving the main problem really fix _everything_? Gilbert eyed Oz carefully, trying to see past the faint smile on his lips and into his head. Or maybe his heart.

“ _So_ , you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

And that – _that_ – struck Gilbert as _wrong_. Warning bells rang in his head, his worry spiking rather than dissipating. Oz’s demeanor as he’d said it had shifted, the light of his fragile smile dimming even further and his eyes taking on a glassy appearance as his body language began to slump the slightest bit. He looked _resigned_ and Gilbert couldn’t stand it.

Gilbert reached out, grasping Oz’s hands, paying no attention to the surprise unfolding on Oz’s face. “Still-,” Gilbert said, putting as much force into the word as he could, “still, if you ever need to talk, I’ll listen. Even if your problem is being taken care of, if there’s ever anything else… I want to help.” Gilbert stared into Oz’s eyes for a moment before having to break away, his nerves overtaking him. His hands on Oz’s squeezed slightly and he cleared his throat. “I mean, we’re friends now. It’s kind of friends’ jobs to- to worry about each other. And, your situation wasn’t the only reason I wanted to be your friend. I told you I was interested in that for a while… Uh, I… I guess what I’m really trying to get at here is… Let me… Let me care about you. Please.”

Oz was burning. His body was hot. His face was hot. His hands, where Gilbert held them, were hot. His heart was racing, ‘let me care about you,’ swirling around his head and making a fluttering mess of his insides. This… Oz didn’t know what to do about this. His emotions were in a state of complete and utter havoc some yelling at him to tell Gilbert that that was definitely okay, others yelling at him to cut Gilbert out of his life _now_ because this was _dangerous_ – because _Oz_ was dangerous and Gilbert just kept proving more and more that he deserved better, others yelling at Oz to kiss him.

Oz had never had a crush before.

Oz had realized from the time his mother had died because of him that he would never be able to be with anyone. That one day even Jack and Alice and Oscar would be left behind for their own good. That his only option was to be alone.

So, Oz – withdrawn and, frankly, terrified of knowing other people – had never paid much attention to others and had, in effect, never developed anything remotely like romantic feelings.

Despite having no experience in that regard, Oz thought that this moment – right now in Alice’s car with Gilbert grasping his hands and his heart feeling as though it was attempting to beat itself right out of his chest and the words ‘let me care about you’ hanging heavy in the air – he may have been sent tumbling into his first crush. And, honestly, with how captivated he’d been by Gilbert since the beginning of this year, he thought that this probably shouldn’t have been as quite shocking as it was.

Regaining control over himself was difficult, but somehow Oz managed to say, “Okay.”

Gilbert’s head whipped up to look at Oz and Oz looked away just as fast, not wanting what felt like a vibrantly red blush on his face to be seen by Gilbert. “It’s okay!?”

“Yeah. It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m… I should drive now. We should get going.”

“Oh.” Gilbert quickly removed his hands from Oz’s. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hold us up.”

“No, you…” Oz stuck the key in the ignition, starting the car. Softly, barely intelligible over the purr of the engine he murmured, “Thank you.”

Gilbert watched Oz take a deep, steadying breath. He was bit curious about the blush that had appeared on Oz’s face, but following that confession of sorts Gilbert’s own face felt extremely hot so he didn’t consider himself to be in any position to ask or judge.

The ride to the arcade was only a couple minutes long, the silence filled by the radio, its volume turned down to a soft background noise. Gilbert took advantage of this to call Vincent and let him know he’d be home later than usual. Vincent hadn’t exactly been happy about it, but the promise that Xerxes was nowhere near Gilbert’s general vicinity had appeased him somewhat.

After parking in the parking lot across the street from the arcade, Oz pulled the key out of the ignition and they both got out of the car. Before crossing the street, Oz linked arms with Gilbert, looking both ways a few more times than Gilbert thought may have really been necessary before tugging Gilbert towards the arcade building.

Gilbert tried not to think about how Sharon and Xerxes were probably right about his having a crush on Oz. He failed. Miserably. With Oz latched onto his arm that train of thought was difficult to ignore. He was glad Xerxes wasn’t with them, the guy had a sixth sense for things that would embarrass Gilbert and would probably have been able to spot Gilbert’s dawning acceptance of his crush a mile away.

Upon entering the arcade building Gilbert and Oz were engulfed in the sounds of ringing bells, music, and loud children. Alice was easily the loudest voice among them, letting out what Gilbert could only describe as a war cry. Gilbert looked at Oz, baffled, but Oz just laughed and wandered off in the direction the scream had come from.

They found Alice manically assaulting a Whack-A-Mole, Sharon watching her intently from a safe distance away.

Though the purpose of the outing was for Alice to meet Gilbert, most of her attention was divided between Oz and Sharon. At some point Oz informed Gilbert that had Sharon not tagged along, he would have faced the full force of Alice’s inquisitive wrath, eliciting a shudder from Gilbert. As it was, Gilbert felt that Alice had asked him plenty, from his favorite food – demanding he cook her something sometime when she learned he was decent at it – to persistent pestering about the origin of his fear of cats – a fact he was immensely regretting having revealed at the beginning of the year as she did her best to get an answer out of him.

They spent an hour at the arcade. Alice dragged Gilbert into a game of Dance Dance Revolution, Sharon handily got a great score on the punching bag machine – to the delight of a cheering Alice, and though Oz didn’t participate – claiming he was too tired – his eyes were lit up with contentment.


	9. A Party (The Final Days of October)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I handled this chapter well.

Oz and Jack were going to be moving in with Oscar the weekend before Halloween.

Oscar had come back from his business on Thursday looking tired and a bit sick, but triumphant. Jack had already set about preparing dinner with Oz helping him when he got home, dropped off by Alice who had spent the brief car ride expressing her approval of Gilbert despite how little of her attention had actually been focused on him. 

When Oscar arrived, all there was left to do was set the table and as the three of them went about it Oscar had announced the move with an air of cheery casualness, as if he were proposing nothing more than a sleepover. Then, leaving Oz and Jack with hardly any time to process this news, let alone ask questions, Oscar had revealed that he now had custody over them. He didn’t go into much detail, instead simply saying that he and Zai had talked it over and decided that giving Oscar custody would be for the best.

Oz hadn’t been quite sure how to react and, based on his silence, Jack hadn’t seemed to know how to either – both of them simply going about the motions of serving themselves dinner as they tried to wrap their heads around this sudden upset in the usual routine of their lives.

With no direction and his emotions in conflict, Oz had made the split-second decision to portray enthusiasm. He turned it on like flipping a switch, lighting up with questions about the move, from when it’d be happening to if he and Jack could paint the walls of their new room. Jack had soon joined in with questions of his own and soon Oz and Jack had turned to teasing Oscar about the likely disastrous state of his apartment because ‘wasn’t it suspicious how many days he needed just to move them a couple blocks away?’.

While Oscar argued that his apartment wasn’t a _disaster_ he made no attempts to attest to it being tidy and the mood for the rest of the evening was bright and sprinkled with laughter.

Neither Oz nor Jack brought up Oscar having taken custody over them, however, when Oz went to bed that night his thoughts regarding the matter were practically boiling over.

He and Jack had decided to sleep together again. They’d turned in earlier than usual, the exhaustion they’d both been experiencing all day hitting them hard as the sun finished up its descent from the sky. Moonlight filtered in through the windows in Jack’s room, its presence as subtle and pervasive as the steadily growing tension that, like white noise, was underlying the silence that stretched out and filled the room. 

It was Jack who brought an end to the stalemate that had been going on since dinner with a whispered, “He probably signed us over to avoid a scandal.”

Oz didn’t respond, though the thought, _We aren’t worth a scandal_ , pressed up against the confines of his head with a fevered desperation to break free. Keeping his mouth shut against the words was practically a feat of physical strength and at a loss of what else to say, Oz remained silent.

Jack eventually fell asleep and with his soft, even breathing as a backdrop, Oz remined himself that being adopted by Oscar, being removed entirely from Zai’s life, was for the best.

He reminded himself that this was an escape and he ought to be seizing it with both hands and a sense of gratified relief. But, while the relief _was_ present, it wasn’t alone. Confusion over whether he actually deserved this escape and a feeling of having been abandoned settled over him like a blanket of shadow. It seeped into his bones, turning into a full-body ache.

It hurt.

As irrational as it was, Zai having given up custody of him _hurt_ – striking like a final blow, twisting itself into the ultimate form of rejection.

As irrational as it was, a part of Oz had been waiting, patient and desperate and lonely, for the day that Zai forgave him. For the day that Zai acknowledged all of his efforts to be good. For the day that Zai assured him that maybe he wasn't actually destined to ruin everyone important to him.

For a day that now, undeniably, would never come.

Because, he would probably _never see Zai again_.

Oz stared up at the dark ceiling of Jack's bedroom and steeped in the feeling of abandonment that that fact evoked. Meanwhile, the still healing bruises littering his body and the cut on his face throbbed out as if in approval, as if to remind him that he should be grateful for this development.

"I'll never see him again," Oz whispered the words, tasting them on his tongue. They came out faint and made his eyes sting, demanding the press of the heals of his hands and making his next intake of breath shudder.

The throbbing continued, both in his heart and on his body and Oz wasn't sure which type hurt worse.

~ ~ ~

Oscar and Oz were in Oscar’s apartment kitchen on Sunday, putting groceries into the bare refrigerator and cupboards. Jack was in his and Oz’s new, shared room, finishing up organizing his half of it. At her own insistence, since her usual weekend plans with Oz were being interrupted by the move, Alice was also present, though her help – consisting of dropping a variety of meat and junk food into their grocery cart and dragging a few boxes into the apartment – had devolved into lounging across a couch in the living room, flipping through channels on the television.

Oscar and Oz were very much alone in the kitchen with nothing but the rustle of plastic bags, faint voices from the television drifting over to them, and Oscar’s fingers drumming on the edge of the refrigerator door.

“Oz,” Oscar began, his voice low in spite of their state of privacy. The drumming ceased and he closed the refrigerator, turning to face Oz. Oz looked up from where he knelt in front of a cupboard and felt a flash of worry roll through him at Oscar’s unreadable expression.

“Yeah Uncle Oscar?” Oz asked, mentally willing his nerves to settle because this was Oscar and there was no reason to be nervous.

“I’ve been thinking. How would you feel about talking to someone?”

For a few moments Oz wasn’t sure what he was talking about. They stared at each other, unmoving, until – just as Oscar began to look like he was going to elaborate – clarity dawned on Oz and he leapt into action with a wave of his hand, brushing aside Oscar’s concerns. “Oh, no, no, I’m fine.”

Oscar frowned – he really was doing a lot of that lately. “You’re fine?” he asked.

Oz nodded and Oscar leaned back against the refrigerator, pressing a hand over his mouth.

Oscar, despite Oz’s insistence that he really _didn’t_ need to talk to someone, continued to push the matter, listing off what must have been well-researched benefits of therapy and finishing it off with, “I’m just worried about you Oz.” This was accompanied by Oscar walking over to ruffle his hair and Oz found his will crumbling.

“I’ll… give it a try,” Oz mumbled, averting his eyes from Oscar’s now beaming face. He went back to busying himself with filling the cupboard while Oscar promised to set up his appointment.

By the time evening came around, they’d finished stocking Oscar’s kitchen, eaten dinner, and Alice was all but pushing Oz out the door, shouting a “Bye!” to Oscar and Jack over her shoulder.

Alice had heard about the move on Friday when Oz met up with her in their first class. After her initial proclamations that she would help, she’d been struck by inspiration. Grasping excitedly at Oz’s shoulders she’d announced that they should have a moving party. She had then, eyes glittering, gasped loudly and said, “If we have it on Monday it can be moving party _and_ a Halloween party,” as if this hybrid party was the best idea she’d ever had. By the end of class she’d had an entire list of foods that should be served, passing it off to Oz while bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Um, Alice?” Oz had said, surveying it. “This is a lot for four people.”

Alice had tilted her head, eyebrows furrowing. “No, there should be six.” She’d began listing names, ticking off her fingers as she went, “You, me, Jack, Oscar, Sharon, and Gilbert.” When she finished she peered at Oz, wiggling her raised fingers.

“Sharon and Gilbert?” Oz had supposed he should have expected this after their trip to the arcade the day before, but he was completely taken off guard.

“Duh. They’re our friends now, right? We can’t just not invite them.” She’d then flounced out of the classroom, anticipation evident in her walk and the dreamy smile on her face.

Oz hadn’t had the heart to turn her down, even if he knew that he should – insistence that he needed to immediately begin distancing himself from Gilbert practically screaming at him from the back of his mind, the words ‘let me care about you’ and his own voice replying with ‘okay’ reverberating through him like a warning.

He’d been twitchy by the time he’d walked into Oscar’s class and spotting Gilbert had just made him twitchier. This… thing – this crush; Oz wasn’t sure how to handle it. He wanted to be close to Gilbert – talk to him, touch him maybe, just exist with him – and that desire was running itself ragged fighting against his instinctual need to not let anyone else near him, to not risk letting anyone else become important to him. Letting anyone else get _hurt_ because of him.

In the end, Oz had to simply allow the matter to be placed into Oscar’s hands – both hoping he would and wouldn’t let the party to take place and glad that this specific decision, at least, wasn’t actually _his_ to make.

Oscar, like Oz, also hadn’t been able to say no to Alice and Sharon and Gilbert never stood a chance.

And Oz – though still conflicted– allowed himself to suppose that maybe this, spending another outing with Gilbert, was fine. Because if Oscar was going to let the party take place and Alice wanted so badly for it to happen, there was really nothing he could do about it. And if there was nothing he could do about it, then being around Gilbert – for now, just _for now_ – had to be fine.

It _had_ to be.

Oz… wanted it to be.

And that was how Oz found himself in a store with Alice, watching with amusement as she ran up and down the Halloween aisles, grabbing candy and decorations to put up around Oscar’s living room. She finally slowed down to rip open a bag of gummi worms and Oz walked over to her, looking into the shopping cart. Aside from candy there were streamers, plastic pumpkins, statues of witches and ghosts, foam gravestones, a skeleton, and a piñata.

As Alice fought with the bag of gummi worms she said, “So what’s with the move anyway? I was so focused on the party I forgot to ask.”

Oz took a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh and leaned on the shopping cart, staring pointedly at its contents. He pressed his lips together, thinking of how best to explain, before settling on, “It just kind of worked out that way.” He shrugged. “It’s something Oscar and Zai decided.”

“Huh.” Alice, having won in her struggle against the gummi worm bag, popped one of the candies into her mouth. She then offered the bag to Oz, pulling it back to herself after he’d grabbed a handful. “I don’t really get it, but…,” another gummi worm met its end as she stared at Oz, considering, her eyebrows furrowed, “even if it wasn’t your decision, moving to Oscar’s might be better, right?”

“You think?” Oz asked, a spark of curiosity working its way through him.

Alice nodded, her face scrunching up in thought. “Yeah, Oscar’s apartment… feels better, I guess?” She reached around Oz, pushing the shopping cart’s baby seat down and dropping the bag of gummi worms onto it, then turned back to the shelves to continue her examination. “It’s like…” Alice curled one of her thin braids around her finger as she tried to figure out how to explain what she meant, “your old house never looked very lived in. Even your _bedroom_ felt that way; it was weird. It made me a little uncomfortable whenever I came over.” She gave a faint shudder then snatched up a box of skull-shaped lights, tossing them into the cart with everything else. “But that’s not the only reason.” Once again facing him, Alice looked directly into Oz’s eyes as she said, “You look more comfortable at Oscar’s, too.”

Oz blinked, the question “I do?” escaping his mouth while he was still processing everything she’d said. He’d never realized that the atmosphere infecting his home – his old home – was so obvious and he certainly hadn’t realized that he’d ever been noticeably uncomfortable there around her. It made him wonder what else he might be unintentionally giving away. 

Her expression rather serious, Alice replied with an emphatic, “Definitely.” She then broke into a smile and linked arms with Oz, jostling him out of his leaning position. “Anyway! I think I got everything we need, let’s go buy this stuff and get out of here. I’ve still got my curfew to beat.”

~ ~ ~

When asked, Gilbert’s mother hadn’t had an issue with him going to Oz’s on Halloween. If anything, she was happy to see him going out and doing things after school, assuring him that Vincent was old enough now to be left alone for a few hours – after all, it wasn’t like he’d burned the house down on Thursday.

Vincent was clearly less than pleased with the argument their mother posed, but he didn’t protest too much, relenting with a frown and a sulking expression while mumbling, “I suppose you look like you’re having more fun lately.”

The party was taking place a few hours after school. Oz had provided Gilbert, Sharon, and – after much cajoling of Alice – Xerxes with his new address and apartment number. Gilbert had been curious about the reason for the sudden move, but he wasn’t sure it was the kind of thing he should be bringing up in front of other people, so he’d let it go.

The apartment complex was right across the street from the school. It was a large building with balconies coming off of either side of it, some sporting a variety of plants – flowers, potted trees, and vines that dripped over the balconies’ edges. The call box near the front door had eight buttons. Gilbert pressed the one labeled ‘Vessalius’ and was buzzed inside.

After walking up four flights of stairs and triple checking the number on the door with the number on the slip of paper Oz had given him, Gilbert was let into the house by Oscar – who had his sleeves rolled up and was wearing an apron.

Gilbert was, apparently, the last to arrive. The door opened into a living room choked with streamers, fairy lights, and a few other types of decorations. A coffee table in the middle of the room held bowls piled high with candy. A television to Gilbert’s right was in the middle of playing a murder scene in a horror movie – assaulting him with the sight of blood and the sound of screams the second he walked into the room. Alice and Sharon were seated very close together on the couch directly across from the television, both of them watching the movie through the spaces between their fingers. Jack was seated on the cushion next to them and Xerxes and Reim – a friend of Xerxes’s that Gilbert was vaguely associated with – were taking up the only other couch in the room, Reim looking rather pale as the gruesome murder continued. Oz was leaning on the back of the couch they were using, his head resting on his arms.

Oscar smiled at Gilbert, clapping him on the back with a, “Come on in! I was just finishing up the food,” and Gilbert stumbled a few steps further into living room.

Oz’s eyes drifted from the television and landed on him in a double take.

“Oh! Hi Gil,” Oz called, waving at him.

Oscar took that opportunity to slip away and Gilbert waved back at Oz, the thrum of nervousness that surged through him at Oz's attention dulled by annoyance as Xerxes looked between the two of them and raised his eyebrows pointedly.

Xerxes's face then split into a wide smile and he beckoned Gilbert over, saying, "Gil! You've finally arrived." He patted the cushion next to him. "Come, come. Come sit."

Gilbert hesitated, suspicious, but unless he planned on sitting on the floor there weren’t actually any other options. With a soft sigh, he removed his shoes and made his way over, noting as he passed Sharon and Alice that between them – almost hidden by their legs with how closely pressed together their bodies were – they were holding hands.

When he'd told Sharon, alone in her car after the outing to the arcade, what Oz had told him about his and Alice’s dating being nothing more than a rumor and that Alice was actually a lesbian, Sharon had taken it about as well as he'd expected. She'd promptly dissolved into flushed embarrassment at the implication that she was at all interested in possibly dating Alice, complete with the insistence that though she found Alice cute it didn't have to mean anything. Then, in what had to be a desperate attempt to escape that particular line of conversation, she'd turned the tables on Gilbert, bringing up Oz's status as single. As a whole, the ride to Gilbert's house had been very uncomfortable for both of them.

Seeing Sharon with Alice now, Gilbert wondered if she'd had a change of heart or a sudden bout of bravery or if, maybe, Alice, determined and confident as she seemed to be, had been the instigator of the hand holding. Regardless of how it'd happened, Gilbert couldn't deny the feelings of jealousy that sprouted up at the sight, the desire the hold Oz's hand whispering thorough his mind.

Gilbert sat down next to Xerxes, closer to him than he really wanted to be. He could practically feel Oz's eyes trained on the back of his head, a few of Oz's fingertips dangling just within his field of vision.

Gilbert wanted to look up at Oz, but Xerxes had begun to speak to him. "Gil, Reim. Reim, Gil.” Xerxes gestured from Gilbert to Reim as he gave the introductions, a sleeve nearly slapping Gilbert in the nose. “You two may have met before."

Reim, looking glad to seize any opportunity to look away from the television, reached across Xerxes to hold a hand out to Gilbert. "It's nice to meet you again."

Gilbert took the offered hand and shook it, feeling a bit awkward. "Ah, yeah, you too."

Their last meeting had been similar, Reim oddly businesslike and formal. It was a wonder someone like _that_ was friends with someone like _Xerxes_.

Such a wonder, in fact, that Gilbert had actually asked Sharon about it. Shockingly, even _she_ – practically a Xerxes expert – had admitted to not understanding why their friendship worked.

"Dinner's done if you kids want to come help yourselves." The words preceded Oscar as he came back into the living room, apron-less this time and drawing all eyes in the room towards him. His announcement was meet with a wave of movement from everyone present and the instant Oz had pushed himself off of the back of the couch, Xerxes leaned towards Gilbert, whispering, "I heard there's been a development with Oz. Good for you!" 

Gilbert whipped his head in Oz's direction, making sure he hadn't heard. Oz appeared rather oblivious, a few steps away from the couch, stretching his arms up towards the ceiling and arching his back. Reassured, Gilbert's fear gave way to anger and he shot a glare at Xerxes, whispering, "Would you _shut up_ about that already?"

"Xerxes? Are your coming?" This came from Reim. He was stopped near the coffee table, watching the two of them.

"Oh, yes, I am," Xerxes replied, standing and patting Gilbert on the head. He walked over to Reim, throwing an arm around his shoulders and began pulling him in the direction everyone else had gone.

Reim stared over his shoulder at Gilbert for a second more, asking, “What was that about?” He then looked directly at Xerxes, an unamused expression on his face. “You weren’t doing something bad to him, were you?”

Xerxes’s, “Of course not,” was all that was left of them as they walked out of the room.

~ ~ ~

Oz hadn’t exactly intended to end up in the living room alone with Gilbert. That being said, he certainly hadn’t made any attempts to leave before him and after sticking around for this long there really wasn’t much of a point in heading to the kitchen without him. Following that logic, Oz walked around the side of the couch and threw himself down onto the cushion next to Gilbert.

Gilbert jumped, letting out a loud gasp, one of his hands flying to his heart. “Oz!” he exclaimed.

Staring into his wide, startled eyes Oz couldn’t help but laugh, arms wrapped around his stomach and shoulder shaking from it.

“You- Don’t laugh!” Gilbert said, though a couple giggles were beginning to slip out of him as well. “You nearly gave me a heart attack; you can’t just drop down out of nowhere.”

Oz swiped at his eyes, his laughter beginning to die down. He looked over at Gilbert, a content smile stretched across his face. “Are you always that jumpy?”

If Oz’s laughter was infectious, Gilbert was certain that his smile – this honest smile, like the couple of others he’d seen before – was even more so. It sent a pleasant buzz through Gilbert’s body and he almost wanted to reach out and trace the curve of it with his fingertips.

Oz watched as Gilbert’s eyes went unfocused for a few moments before he roughly shook his head, the faint tint of a blush sweeping across his cheeks. “I- No. I’m-I’m not always quite that jumpy.” He gave a short, nervous laugh and reached up to tug at the curls at the nape of his neck. “Xerxes just knows how to get to me.”

“Oh.” Oz pulled his legs up onto the couch, crossing them, and leaned back. “He definitely seems… interesting.”

Gilbert blew out a long, exasperated breath. “That’s one way to describe him, I suppose.”

Oz peered at Gilbert. Agitation was clear in the twist of his mouth, its presence sending a spark of anxiety through Oz, but a quick assurance that is was directed at Xerxes and not him helped to alleviate most of it. Gilbert’s hand had also creeped a bit further up through the back of his hair causing parts of it to stick out wildly. It was undeniably cute and Oz wanted to reach out and smooth it back into place.

Gilbert glanced up and for a moment their eyes locked. His then went fluttering about the room, before stopping abruptly – a thought seeming to occur to him – and dragging themselves right back to Oz. “By the way, this move was pretty sudden, wasn’t it?”

Oz could feel his smile slipping. “Yeah. Kind of.”

Gilbert’s hand dropped from his hair and he began playing with his fingers in his lap, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Since we’re alone right now, is it alright if I ask you something? About the move?”

Oz considered saying no, but ‘let me care about you’ began echoing in his head again and instead he found himself saying a resigned, “Sure, go ahead.”

“Is moving in with Oscar what you meant when you said your problem was being taken care of?”

Oz drew in a deep breath, letting his head fall back on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t really want to go into a lot of detail here and wasn’t quite sure how to reply. Hesitantly, he said, “This was… part of it. Not all of it, but part of it.” He rolled his head over, his cheek pressing into the couch, to gauge Gilbert’s reaction.

Gilbert’s eyebrows were furrowed, but he was nodding, seeming to accept Oz’s explanation. “Ah, I thought so.”

Oz hummed, considering those words. ‘I thought so.’ First, it’d been the unrelenting suspicion about Oz’s home life and now Gilbert was figuring out the aftermath of it as if it was easy. It was like, if he tried hard enough and wanted to, Gilbert could pick Oz apart and determine every last detail of his life.

“You sure are good at noticing stuff like that, huh,” Oz murmured, pushing at Gilbert’s shoulder – an attempt at lightening the mood. Unbidden, the conversation he’d had with Alice last night came to mind, dragging a faint, “Unless…” from his lips.

Unless…

Unless it was obvious. So obvious that an essential stranger could pick up on it all.

And if it was that obvious… did anyone else know? Did _every_ one know? Was that all it took, just one look at him, one quick word with him, and his relationship with Zai would be flashing across his forehead like a neon sign?

Oz’s fingertips felt cold.

“Oz? Oz, are you okay?” A hand brushed his arm and Oz jolted. His head shot up, his nose nearly brushing Gilbert’s. And Gilbert was- he was close. Very close. The fingers on Oz’s arms squeezed slightly and in his periphery he thought he could see Gilbert’s other hand hovering near face. Oz was effectively captured by Gilbert’s eyes and the feeling of Gilbert’s breath tickling his skin. His heart was pounding, but at the same time something about this – Gilbert’s closeness, the warm concern in his eyes, the hand on his arm – was calming. It swept away his spiraling thoughts – a distraction, for the moment at least – and allowed him to breathe.

Until, of course, Gilbert wrenched himself away from Oz with a litany of apologize falling from his lips.

Oz laughed softly, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it Gil.” There was a moment of silence, Gilbert watching Oz like a deer in headlights, before Oz stood up, saying, “Well, we should probably get to the kitchen before they eat everything.” Oz reached a hand out towards Gilbert. Gilbert eyed it warily before tentatively grasping it with one of his own and Oz heaved him up onto his feet.

Gilbert didn’t let go of Oz’s hand as they walked towards the kitchen.

Oz was glad to have a reason to keep holding on.

After they had all eaten everyone returned to the living room. Xerxes was relegated to the floor, sitting between Reim’s legs and Oz took his spot beside Gilbert on the couch. The main lights were shut off, the only things brightening the room being the dim skull-shaped fairy lights and the horror movies Alice had picked out. In the dark, Oz let himself to lean closer towards Gilbert than what was strictly necessary. He let their hands touch and their fingers interlock and, for the few hours he had left of this little party, he tried not to think about things he shouldn’t let himself have.


	10. College Applications (November Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of 'character's experiencing emotions they don't know what to do with' in this one. Hopefully it all flows together okay. Side note: NO ONE TOLD ME PASTING INTO THE ARCHIVE WORD BOX GOT RID OF MY ITALICS! So I fixed that in all of the previous chapters, not that you need to go back and see it, but it's the way I intended it now.

With the move into November came a shift in the weather, cool afternoons and chilly nights turning into chilly afternoons and near-freezing nights. The air, sweetly perfumed with the rot of dying leaves, had taken on an additional sharp scent, a warning that snow could begin falling at any moment.

As if it were a result of these gradually dropping temperatures, Oscar’s apartment, so close to the school, swiftly became a popular place for Oz’s now rather large group of friends to congregate. It occurred naturally, starting with Alice. Oz’s home, no longer in the opposite direction from her own, was easy to go to after school and she began a regular habit of following him as she chatted away, across the street and into the building and up the stairs, arriving with only the intention of finishing what she was saying but sticking around for hours afterward because she didn’t want to go back out into the cold air.

By the end of the first week of November, Sharon began coming arm-in-arm with Alice – as far as Oz knew the progress of their relationship had been at a stand-still since the Halloween party, but they both appeared to be content with that – and soon after, with Sharon’s suggestion of having a group session for working on college applications, Xerxes began coming by as well.

Gilbert, not facing the opposition from Alice that Xerxes dealt with, had stumbled over a request to tag along the day after Alice had brought Sharon with her. Up until that moment, Gilbert had walked with Oz and Alice as far as the apartment’s front door before stopping and saying goodbye. It was as if Sharon’s invitation via Alice had, in Gilbert’s mind, provided him with the unspoken permission he needed to ask if he could stay for a while, too.

In response to Gilbert’s request Oz, benevolently, chose to ignore the thumbs-up he saw Sharon and Xerxes very unsubtly flashing Gilbert, instead pushing at Gilbert’s arm and telling him, “Loosen up. It’s not like I’m going to tell you ‘no.’”

The surprise on Gilbert’s face quickly melted into pleasure, the faint blush that rose on his cheeks giving him away. His eyes had flitted about, a weak, “Right,” slipping out of his lips.

It had made Oz’s stomach flutter, the feeling – now free from the calm that the Halloween party had filled him with – eliciting a sharp burst of fear. He’d pressed his hands to his stomach, on hand atop the other. The palm that had touched Gilbert’s arm pressed solidly into his body – pushing, pushing – trying to push the butterflies right out of existence.

What Oz had wanted – secretly, a soft whisper in the back of his head, barely audible over the beat of his heart – was to press that palm to his lips, to kiss the skin that had touched Gilbert. Gilbert who looked at him with such kind, caring eyes. Who told him things he didn’t even know that he desperately wanted to hear.

What Oz did – in spite of that want, that burning and persistent want – was keep pressing and pressing at his stomach, unrelenting the whole short walk home.

Over the course of those first two weeks of November, leading up to the day when they would all pile into Oscar’s living room and work on college applications together, there was no discussion between Oz and Gilbert of the Halloween party. There was also no attempt from either of them to recreate the intimacy of it, a fact that both relieved and disappointed Oz.

He didn’t want Gilbert to get too attached to him. He didn’t want his crush to go anywhere.

He was afraid of what would happen if it did.

At the same time, he could not resist teasing Gilbert, reveling in the reactions he could pull out of him. He could not resist being close to him, leaning in a bit too far while they spoke or worked on homework together in the afternoons at Oscar’s. He could not resist allowing himself small touches or the brush of their bodies against each other.

He could not stop himself from wishing he wasn’t the only one making these small moves, Gilbert nothing more than the recipient.

And all of those moments and actions, heavy with the gentle sweetness of affection and the weight of wanting, settled deep into Oz’s bones. They carried with them the contradiction of satisfaction and insatiability – happy with what he had, but wanting more. Of contentment and fear – comfortable with their growing closeness, but terrified of it.

And the fear, that fear. It was the worst part of it, of everything. That ever-present fear.

It lurked in his nightmares: his mother, brother, uncle, Alice all ripped from him in a second, their faces overlaid as they wrapped themselves around his small body and shoved him from the path of that on-coming car; those faces then replaced by Gilbert, disoriented and bloody and the last image Oz was left with as he jolted violently into consciousness with heaving gasps and sweaty skin.

It lurked in his body, instinctual reactions that he’s had since childhood: flinching upon being touched too suddenly, trembling in the wake of a raised voice, the blankness that overtakes his mind.

It lurked in his need to separate himself from others and in the loneliness that his plans for the future promised him.

That fear – all of it, every last drop instilled in Oz’s heart and breath and mind – was the focus of his first therapy session. The day arrived on the first Saturday of November, Oz and Jack whispering to each other the night before. Oz had stated that he had an appointment, simple and toneless, spoken to the ceiling though the words were meant for Jack. Jack had half-pushed himself up on his bed to get a better look at Oz, the sound of his movement drawing Oz’s gaze to him, before saying that Oscar had talked _him_ into agreeing to an appointment, _too_. They’d stared at each other, and then – seemingly for no reason at all while also being for every possible reason, like themselves and the situation and their uncle – Oz and Jack had burst into laughter, muffled by their hands and wracking their whole bodies, tears forming at the corners of their eyes.

When Oz had fallen asleep, he’d slept soundly, his chest light and a smile on his lips.

After that first session it had been decided that Oz would continue to therapy, coming once a week.

~ ~ ~

The day they all went to Oscar’s apartment to work on college applications, Oz came out of the bathroom without a bandage on his face. At this point it had practically become a staple to Oz’s appearance, so expected that it was easy to entirely overlook. When Gilbert realized it was missing he did a double take, surprised and then oddly captivated as Oz squeezed past Alice to retake his seat between her and Gilbert.

The addition of Xerxes and Reim, who had been dragged along as a guest, had made the table more crowded than usual, stray papers and laptops squeezed even more precariously atop it. They, like everyone else, looked at Oz for a moment too long, a swell of tension broken by Jack – perched on the couch behind Oz, Alice, and Gilbert – as he reached out and lightly ruffled Oz’s hair and Alice as she captured Oz’s hand and squeezed it. Everyone, but Gilbert, then dived back into what they had been doing before his reappearance.

The scar on Oz’s cheek was pale pink.

It stretched across his skin, jagged, the far edges of it faded like it had been all the way healed for days now. Gilbert knew he shouldn’t stare and he tried his best not to, constantly forcing his attention back to the essay he should have been working on, but something about it kept attracting his eyes. He wanted to trace his fingertips along it.

He had the ridiculous urge to press his lips to it, as if he could kiss it better. As if with every kiss some of the pain would be pulled out it and the scar would fade and fade and fade until there was nothing left.

For Oz, the decision to remove his bandage had been a spur of the moment thing. His skin had been itchy, so he’d pealed it off and then he just… hadn’t wanted to put another one on. He was sick of the process of it and he was especially sick of having a large bandage taking up so much of his face. The pink color of the scar stood out against his white skin and he would have preferred if it had been less noticeable, but with the assurance to himself that it wasn’t that bad he had walked out of the bathroom and rejoined everyone else.

Unfortunately, that already precarious attitude was difficult to maintain with how twitchy Gilbert was beside him. It was making Oz positively desperate for some sort of distraction and he readily welcomed it in the form of Xerxes releasing a long, drawn out sigh as he threw himself across Reim’s lap. Reim, as though he were on autopilot, dropped his hands from his laptop the instant Xerxes began to fall on top of him in order to make his lap accessible. Once Xerxes was settled, Reim returned to his work, clearly completely used to this sort of behavior.

Oz shut his laptop, leaning across it to get closer to Reim, asking, “So, I’ve been wondering, how do you know Xerxes, anyway?”

Reim’s fingers paused on his keyboard but it was Xerxes who said, “He’s my servant.”

Reim scoffed, shutting his laptop. “Absolutely not.” To Oz he said, “Actually, I’m his boyfriend.”

Silence descended as everyone’s eyes swiveled towards Reim. 

“Ah, yeah, that too,” Xerxes said flippantly. From his position, Oz could see Xerxes waving a hand dismissively

Oz, forgetting the discomfort that had winded its way around himself and Gilbert, glanced back at Gilbert and they shared an incredulous look.

The first person to regain their voice was Sharon, a loud, “ _What_!?” ripping itself from her throat. Alice snatched up Sharon’s laptop just in time for Sharon’s hands to slam down on the table in what would have caused the demise of her keyboard.

Reim jumped, his eyes widening, a soft, “Um,” slipping past his lips.

The shock of Sharon’s violent reaction seemed to have jumpstarted Gilbert as he was also now leaning across the table, his laptop set on the ground to the side of him. “Reim…” Gilbert began, entreating him. “You don’t _have_ to do this. Are you being threatened?” The duress on Reim’s face was slipping away into amusement.

Xerxes pushed himself up, returning to a sitting position. He glared at Gilbert as he said, “I am _not_ that bad.” Reim was snickering now, a hand pressed over his mouth and his shoulders trembling with his attempts to stifle it. 

Gilbert made a noise of disbelief. “You called you boyfriend your servant!”

Xerxes crossed his arms. “That wasn’t a lie. He does a lot of things for me.”

“Only because you’re absolutely hopeless and would leave it all unfinished until you die,” Reim, his laughter beginning to clear up, interjected.

“And what, exactly,” Sharon asked, “is he making you do?”

“Well,” Reim adjusted his glasses, ticking each item off on his fingers, “I regularly clean and straighten his room and look over his homework. When he got a job last year I started filing his taxes. And, now, I suppose I’ll be helping him with his college applications.”

To Xerxes, Sharon said, “Wait.” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You need help with your homework? I thought…”

“Of course not. He just insists on doing it.” Xerxes threw an arm around Reim’s shoulders.

Reim leaned into Xerxes, letting himself be held, an underlying fondness in his words as he said, “If anyone else saw all of the edits I have to make on your English papers I think they would agree that you _do_ need my help and I’m _still_ your tutor, actually.”

Xerxes wrinkled his nose in disgust. “It’s hardly my fault that I get bored part way through those assignments. They’re tedious.”

“Hold on,” Sharon said, holding up a hand. “Tutor?”

“Yes, I was-” Reim began, but he was quickly cut off as Sharon was given the conformation she had been looking for.

“As in the tutor _you_ , Xerxes Break, were assigned in sophomore year when you were failing English because you were too lazy to do your homework? The overbearing, obnoxious tutor you hated vehemently? The one you told me you were _gladly rid of_ after your grade raised to a B? _That_ tutor?”

Xerxes nodded sagely. “The very same.”

Sharon gestured wildly at Reim. “In what universe is this ‘rid of’!?” Her expression hurt, she continued, “You lied to me.”

“It’s semantics, my dear Sharon. I was rid of my tutor even if I wasn’t rid of Reim himself.”

“Why didn’t you ever say you had a _boyfriend_ though? This whole time I never knew.” Sharon eyed Xerxes with clear displeasure – all pain at his having kept a secret from her – then turned her attention to Reim, brightening significantly. She crawled over to Reim, and, ignoring Xerxes completely, she said, “You _have_ to tell me the story. What made Xerx stop hating you? It must have been so romantic.” She clasped her hands to her chest, her eyes staring off into the distance. “Thawing his heart and causing love to blossom in place of animosity; it’s perfect!”

“Oh, yes, why ever would I have not told you about this. One can only wonder,” Xerxes said, sarcasm heavy in his tone.

Sharon payed him no mind as she reached over him to grab Reim’s hands. “You are a miracle worker. Did Xerxes have to work hard to win your affections?”

“Why exactly am _I_ the one pining in your imagination?”

“Someone would have to be crazy to pine after you,” Gilbert said.

Before Xerxes could retaliate, Reim, gently disentangling his hands from Sharon’s clutches, said, “It was all rather spontaneous, actually. Xerxes wanted to get out of studying and took advantage of my lack of sleep from the previous night.” He laughed faintly. “He tackled me and when I realized I wasn’t going to be able to escape I ended up passing out. Then, when I woke up Xerxes had moved me to his bed, completed his English homework without my supervision, and had done my math homework for me.”

Sharon’s smile softened, her expression one of fondness and understanding. “On occasion Xerxes _is_ capable of the sweetest feats to show he cares.” 

“Yes, as you can imagine I was very touched and admittedly quite a bit sleep-addled. After he told me he did my homework for me I asked him to go out with me, didn’t even put any thought into it, it just kind of slipped out.”

“And what did he say!?”

Xerxes shifted away from Reim and grabbed Sharon’s face, turning her to look at him. “I’m right here you know. I could tell you myself,” he said.

Sharon pushed at him, her fingers smushing against his nose and cheek as he ducked out of the way, releasing her. “You didn’t even want to tell me in the first place, you are no longer a trustworthy source for information,” she replied. With a smile and while readjusting her hair, she said, “Go on, Reim.”

Reim, tentatively, said, “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.” His eyes shifted between Sharon and Xerxes, her investment in the story having once again put him on edge. Xerxes made an ‘carry on’ gesture and Reim cleared his throat, dropping his eyes to his lap. “Well… Xerexes looked at me like I was crazy and said, ‘Are you kidding? No way in hell.’”

Sharon gasped, appalled. “ _Xerxes Break_!” She exclaimed, whipping her head in his direction. “That is _not_ how one rejects a love confession!”

Xerxes, shrugged. “As far as I was concerned it wasn’t a love confession, it was nonsense. You said it yourself Sharon, I hated this guy.”

“Don’t worry Sharon,” Reim said, “I didn’t take it too hard, though by the time I got home I was absolutely mortified.”

“If Xerxes rejected you, how did you two _actually_ get together then?” Oz interjected.

“He grew on me,” Xerxes replied.

“A few weeks after that, uh, incident,” Reim said, grimacing around the word, “Xerxes asked what exactly I liked about him-”

“What _did_ you like about him?” Gilbert asked, cutting him off.

“Oh!” Reim pulled his glasses off, wiping them on his shirt, a faint flush spreading across his face. “Well, he may be exasperating, but he’s rather interesting – fun to be around.” He put his glasses back on. “There’s also that he’s, um- no. No, nevermind.” Reim shook his head, his face significantly redder, and took a deep breath. “Basically, I wasn’t opposed to having a date or two just to see if it would go anywhere. But, anyway, he asked me what I liked about him then asked me out himself.” Reim shrugged. “It wasn’t really anything all that special.”

“Nonsense!” Sharon exclaimed. “It wasn’t a fairytale, but it was absolutely adorable! Thank you for telling me.”

“It wasn’t anything like the romance novels and grand gestures you like to talk about though,” Alice said, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Maybe not, but what really matters is the pure-hearted feelings of love being shared between two people.” Sharon smiled at Alice, moving back over to the spot she’d been sitting in next to her.

“So, a simple confession is fine?” Alice asked, curiously.

“Of course!” Sharon exclaimed, settling down. “It has its own kind of charm.”

“Huh.” Alice nodded to herself then rose to her knees, grabbing Sharon by the shoulders. “I like you. Go out with me.”

Sharon’s eyes widened dramatically, a deep blush staining her cheeks and ears. “You- I- Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes!” Sharon repeated, firmly, her shock morphing into delight. A wide smile stretched across her face, a match for the one on Alice’s.

Jack watched this scene with a sense of bafflement that only grew as he looked around the room and realized that he was the only person who was confused by this development. Alice’s proclamations that she would be the best girlfriend ever became background noise, fading out of Jack’s perception as he pressed his lips together, leaning further back into the couch.

No one was surprised _but him_.

At that knowledge, a sharp ache began spreading through his chest; the unpleasant pressure of loneliness – pushing at him from the inside out. He wrapped an arm around himself, grasping at his bicep, fingernails biting into his skin.

He felt out of place – a sensation that echoed through his body, reminiscent of the faint feeling that had sprouted up within him from the moment Lacie had left, growing and growing with each day that passed, with each interaction between himself and Oz and Alice.

Jack loved Oz and he liked Alice. However, the fact of the matter was… neither of them were _Lacie_. The friendship he’d had with her, the love he’d felt for her: it simply couldn’t be replaced.

He didn’t _want_ it to be replaced and now, in this moment, with the glaring oversight of being the only one unaware of Alice’s crush, Jack realized that that desire had put up a wall between himself and everyone else. He spent his free time with Alice and Oz, and their new friends when they came around, but maybe he was never all the way there. Never all the way _with_ them; an unbroachable distance established after the loss of Lacie – self-defense through seclusion, insidious in its imperceptibility. Noticeable only in moments like this. Moments where Jack was undeniably out of touch with everyone else.

As he watched their easy laughter, touching, smiling, teasing, he felt jealousy, hot and vicious, boil up inside of him. It felt unfair, that each of these people should have people so very special to them, while the person who had meant the most to _him_ , who knew him intimately and who he in turn knew intimately as well, was gone.

Jack was no longer simply jealous of Oz. He was jealous of everyone in this room – a swell of desperation and malevolence that made his fingers tremble and his eyes burn.

Surrounded by these people, he missed Lacie.

_He missed her_.

Jack unclenched his hand from his arm, crescent marks from his nails left in its wake, and leaned forward, lightly touching Oz on the shoulder to get his attention. “I’m going to our room,” Jack murmured. Oz looked at him for a moment, but whatever he saw in Jack’s expression must have let him know not to push the matter because he simply nodded and allowed Jack to slip, as discreetly as he could, out of the room.

Following Alice’s confession, the slim chance of any of them getting more work done – already shattered by Xerxes’s and Reim’s revelation – was completely demolished. The sun was already setting, the time going on 5 p.m., and when Oscar arrived they had all settled into slacking off – the television was on as background noise to their chatting and their laptops were being used for social media rather than access to Microsoft and various colleges’ application pages. Alice had thrown her legs across Sharon’s lap, the two of them holding hands. Xerxes was laying between Reim’s legs, his back pressed snugly against Reim’s front, fluffy hair tickling his chin.

Oz and Gilbert had taken over the couch, sitting close, knees and shoulders touching. The frequency of the glances Gilbert sent Oz’s way had dropped drastically since Oz had returned from the bathroom, but they hadn’t stopped entirely.

“You kids look like you’re having fun,” Oscar said as he made his way into the apartment. “It’s getting kind of dark out though, are any of you staying for dinner or spending the night?”

There was a general shift of eyes from Oscar to the window as they took in the darkening sky. Oscar’s questions were met with a chorus of “no”s and reluctant movement as everyone but Oz began to get up from their comfortable positions and gather their belongings.

“Alright,” Oscar said, as he continued through the living room, in the direction of his bedroom, loosening his tie. “Make sure you get home safe.”

There was litany of assent, followed by promises to Oz from Sharon and Alice that they would text him when they got home, Sharon speaking for Xerxes, Reim, and Gilbert as well since she intended to drive them.

Gilbert was still putting away the last of his things while everyone else was crowded around the front door. His movements were overly sluggish, intentionally so – he felt the need to say something to Oz, but he wasn’t sure what; he could tell he’d been making Oz uncomfortable – all of that stupid staring – but he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

In the end it was Oz who spoke first, standing close to him and keeping his voice low as he said, “Hey, Gil?”

“Yeah?” Gilbert replied, his heart rate picking up and his hands becoming clammy. He stood from where he knelt, zipping up his bookbag, and pulled it onto one of his shoulders.

Just as he feared, Oz, staring at him determinedly, asked, “Is something wrong?”

Gilbert's eyes flickered to Oz’s scar and it was immediately covered by Oz’s hand, his fingers rubbing at it. “No,” Gilbert assured him. “Nothing’s wrong, I just…” he trailed off, meeting Oz’s gaze. “I’m sorry.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t mean to stare and I’m not… I’m not judging you or anything like that. I…” Oz’s stare felt piercing. Gilbert wracked his brain, trying his best to put words to the feeling that seeing that scar elicited, trying not to ruin the friendship he’d established with Oz due to unintentional insensitivity. “I guess,” he said, hesitantly, “I wish there was something I could do. For you.”

Oz hummed, nodding. He shifted his hand from his scar, pressing his index finger to his lips in thought, the fingers of his other hand tapping at his thigh. “Well,” he began, “I don’t think there’s anything I want. You know, you- you don’t have to make this,” he gestured towards his scar, “up to me.” As he finished speaking, his expression opened up, turned inspired and he said, “On second thought, I _do_ want something. I want you to not feel like you need to make this up to me. What’s done is done, right?”

Gilbert smiled faintly. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I’m being ridiculous.”

“You absolutely are!” Oz patted Gilbert on the shoulder, grinning at him.

“Okay.” There was a brief moment where they just looked at each other, the Gilbert cleared his throat, and shifted his bookbag. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“Yeah.” Oz stepped out of the way, allowing Gilbert to move past him. “Bye!” This was said louder than everything else, loud enough for the others to hear as Gilbert walked over to them. There was some waving towards Oz and the front door was opened and then with a _click_ the door was shut and Oz was alone in the living room. He stood there and reached up the lightly trace the scar with his fingertips.

He couldn’t quite place the emotion he felt roiling in his chest.


	11. Quality time and sleepovers (November part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe me if I said I didn't think Gilbert was going to have a pov this chapter? He just kinda... took over. Also, unrelated to this fic: I started rereading "Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz and it's even better than I remembered, if you haven't read it I highly recommend it.

It was nearing fall break the that day Oscar burst into the apartment. He had claimed to be running to the grocery store, but one startled look towards him from Oz and Jack revealed, rather than bags piled up around his feet, Mrs. Kate looking exasperated behind him and Ada in his arms, despite her having the lanky limbs of a ten-year-old. Oz and Jack had been lounging on the couch, but before Oscar could even finish getting out the words, “Guess who's here for a playdate!” they were already on their feet and rushing over.

 

“Hello, Oz, Jack,” Mrs. Kate said.

 

She was just loud enough to be heard over Ada as she squirmed her way out of Oscar's arms and excitedly yelled, “I missed you so, so, so, so, so much!”

 

“It's nice to see you both,” Mrs. Kate continued, a smile on her lips as, with Ada’s feet now firmly planted on the ground, she placed a hand on Ada's head, as if that would calm her. Mrs. Kate rested her gaze briefly on Jack and then Oz, her eyes heavy with an emotion that Oz couldn't quite place. The instant Mrs. Kate lifted her hand from Ada's head, turning to speak with Oscar, Ada took off, wrapping her arms as far and as tightly as she could around her brothers.

 

Ada was usually rather serene. She was well-behaved, sweet, and had rather excellent grades – essentially a model child. However, whenever she was reunited with her brothers, excitement seemed to electrify her, filling her with a hidden liveliness, her beaming smile almost painfully bright. She became more talkative and outspoken under the attentive awe of Jack and Oz and she confided in them secrets she believed she kept rather well from Mrs. Kate.

 

Oz, typically more tentative around Ada, felt noticeably more relaxed than usual.

 

Maybe it was the fact that they were in Oscar's apartment rather than at Zai's house, the risk of Zai walking through the door at any moment no longer present. Maybe it was the growing contentment he'd been experiencing with indulging in his new-found friendships – still heavily tinged by anxiety, but gradually, slowly, steadily being overshadowed by the vague sense that Zai could have been wrong about him. Or maybe it was the couple of visits to the therapist, already filled with the pushing and prodding of her gentle attempts to rearrange his self-view.

 

Regardless of the reason, Oz allowed himself to be lost in the joy of reuniting with his precious sister and happily swept Ada off her feet, delighting in her giggles as her danced her to the couch and deposited her on his lap.

 

“Well Ada, what've you been up to lately?” Oz asked.

 

Ada lowered her voice conspiratorially and began telling them about a stray cat she'd started taking care of. She went into close detail about how it looked, even drawing them a picture, crayons and paper retrieved from a bag Mrs. Kate had brought and left by the door.

 

As Oz chatted with Ada, who looked positively delighted at the more overt affection he was giving her today, Jack wandered over towards the kitchen, where Oscar and Mrs. Kate had slipped off to. He could hear their voices, faintly, their tones echoing with a sense of seriousness that made Jack nervous.

 

“You know, I always found it strange that she wasn't kept with the rest of her family," Mrs. Kate was saying, sorrow almost tangible in her words. Jack leaned back against the wall that had the doorway to the kitchen, keeping his limbs tucked closely to himself to avoid being seen. “You don't have to worry about me, Oscar. I'll fully support you in this. Being separated from the boys just isn't good for that poor girl.”

 

“I'm glad you agree with me,” Oscar said, sounding unfathomably relieved.

 

“How could I not? I'm constantly seeing how happy she is to visit them and how devastated she is to leave.” There was the sound of heels on wood, as though Mrs. Kate had started to pace. “But, about that other matter, I _can't_ _believe_...” The pacing stopped, an edge of desperation entering Mrs. Kate’s voice as she asked, “The whole time?” A faint “yes” from Oscar and the pacing started back up again. “I can honestly say,” Mrs. Kate began, a thread of fury in her tone that made her words tremble and sent a shudder down Jack's spine, “that I've never before had reason to be relieved and grateful that a child was in my care due to an absentee parent. Whatever you need, I’ll help you. I don't want that man anywhere near Ada.”

 

Jack slipped away, doing his best to school his wide-eyed expression into something inconspicuous. Oz, now having magic tricks demonstrated to him by Ada, caught his eye when he reentered the room, raising an eyebrow quizzically. Jack shook his head and, after a moment, Oz returned his full attention to Ada, scooting over a little on the couch to make room for Jack to join them.

 

The evening began to wind down when the five of them had dinner together – courtesy of Mrs. Kate, who made her contempt for the current state of Oscar's kitchen known, scolding him about the necessity of keeping it well, and preferably healthily, stocked while Oscar was hardly able to get a word in edgewise in his defense.

 

After eating, Mrs. Kate granted Ada one more hour before the two of them would be heading back home. Oz, Ada, and Jack took advantage of this to make a blanket fort in their room, using the space between Jack’s and Oz's beds and commandeering all of the pillows and cushions in the house to make themselves a comfortable nest.

 

They got cozy together, Ada in between her brothers, and began a story telling game where each of them got two add a single line. They developed an action-filled story of a magical princess and her quest to become the best magician in the world. The hour was up before their princess’s adventure was complete, but Oz and Jack promised Ada they wouldn't forget a single detail and could pick it up again the next time she came over.

 

They hovered in the doorway, dragging out their goodbyes and when Ada left them, it was with tight hugs and eyes that were more than a little watery. Mrs. Kate promised to bring her by again soon, her eyes kind on Oz and Jack, but taking on a solemn depth when they turned to Oscar. The air between Mrs. Kate and Oscar sizzled with tension, weary and thick with worry but determined.

 

Oz glanced between them, curious, but didn’t say anything.

 

While Jack and Oz were preparing for bed, Oz turned to Jack, asking, “Did something happen?” It wasn’t just the strange expression that Jack had been wearing after rejoining himself and Ada that was bothering Oz. He could tell something was going on with Mrs. Kate and Oscar, something that was, evidently, important enough that it necessitated private conversations and secrecy and meaningful glances.

 

Jack stared at Oz, considering. He didn't want to lie to him, but he also didn't want to cause him stress or get his hopes up for something that may not end up happening. Jack spent a few moments in turmoil, but before he could decide, there was a knock on their bedroom door. “Not now,” Jack whispered to Oz, thankful for the distraction though it made Oz’s expression drop with disappointment. Raising his voice Jack said, “You can come in, Oscar.”

 

Oscar opened the door dressed in his pajamas with a blanket in his arms. “Oh, good!” he said, peering into the room. “The fort's still up. I was thinking we could make a sleepover out of it.”

 

Oz, quickly swept up in the fancifulness of Oscar’s statement, didn’t hesitate for a moment before saying, “That's a great idea!” He turned to Jack, smiling widely. “Right?”

 

“Yeah, definitely.” Jack nodded. “I was feeling too tired to take it down, anyway.” Jack’s thankfulness expanded, flooding his body with relief as he realized he’d have at least the whole night to sort out his thoughts and figure out what he should do.

 

The three of them got situated inside the fort, squished together a bit since the space wasn’t exactly meant to accommodate two boys in their late teens and a grown man. In the backs of their minds, each of them were dealing with their own pressing thoughts as well as the fact that with each passing hour that Ada was gone, the memory of her smile and laugh and voice got fuzzier, her absence hollowing out their hearts.

 

As if to spite the heavy feelings washing over them – or possibly to shove them back, to feel some sense of relief and calm and contentment – the three of them joked with each other until they passed out. Underlying the banter, Oz and Jack were well aware that Oscar's company was the result of empathy born from the knowledge of how much they loved and missed their sister, while Jack alone was aware that Oscar may have need the comfort of their presences himself, as worry and pain regarding the steps he would have to take to get Ada away from Zai assailed him.

 

Oz, unaware of this hidden conflict that existed like a subtle electric charge to the air, fell asleep easily, pushing his concerns about the strangeness of Jack’s and Oscar’s and Mrs. Kate’s behavior aside for another time.

 

~ ~ ~

 

As it turned out, Jack's 'later' ended up beginning 'never,' the strangeness of his behavior slipping from Oz's mind over the half week they had of school before fall break. On the other hand, Ada's visit itself took on a tinge of anxiety – the wrongness Oz had been conditioned to experience surging back up with a vengeance.

 

It was a painful few days before the feeling began to ebb. Oz felt desperate to fix what he'd done, though, logically, he knew there was nothing to fix. He wanted to erase the time he'd spent with Ada while also wanting nothing more than to treasure it forever. He wanted to separate himself from everyone, immediately, the fear that he was putting them in danger near suffocating at night, with Jack sleeping peacefully and Oz tossing and turning and fighting himself.

 

Jack and Alice both noticed the change in Oz’s behavior, though they dropped the subject when he told then he was fine, a forced, distant smile on his face. The look they’d exchanged with each other had made their concerned disbelief clear, but Jack, at least, knew when it was best not to push Oz’s boundaries and Alice tended to follow his lead on those matters.

 

Surprisingly, though at this point Oz supposed it wasn’t actually much of a surprise, despite the fact that Gilbert had known him for only about two months he, too, had begun sending worried glances Oz’s way. Unlike Jack and Alice, he hadn't asked any questions. It was as if he could sense just from looking at Oz that he didn't want to talk about it.

 

_Gilbert’s intuitiveness_ , Oz decided, _is absolutely remarkable_. Even feeling as low and rough as he did, the thought was still able to pull a smile from his lips and draw gratitude from his heart.

 

It was the first day of fall break and Oz was just starting to recover from the shift in his mood, the sickness he felt in his stomach and the depths of his soul easing, when Gilbert texted him. He stared at the notification, then shoved his phone into his pocket. Periodically over the course of the next couple hours he would pull out his phone just to stare at the notification but end up returning it to his pocket without looking at the message.

 

Eventually, Jack, also loitering around the apartment, noticed, asking, “What’s up?”

 

Oz jumped slightly, his eyes flying up from his phone screen. “Oh, uh… nothing,” he said.

 

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. “You sure? You look kinda… conflicted? I guess.”

 

Oz frowned down at his phone. He supposed that that was exactly what he felt: conflicted. Part of him was still holding onto that self-isolating state while the other part of him was nearing desperation to interact with somebody, anybody, and Gilbert was certainly a very appealing and apparently available option.

 

“I’m trying to decide something,” Oz said.

 

“Did you want advice?”

 

Oz wrinkled his nose. “Not really.” He still didn’t want to talk about what he was feeling with Jack. It was too personal. And besides, Jack always looked pained when Oz voiced any negative thoughts he had about himself.

 

“What about flipping a coin?”

 

“Oh!” Oz brightened. “That could work.” He stuffed his phone back into his pocket, and grinned at Jack, saying a quick, “Thanks,” as he went to their bedroom. He dug through his bookbag, unearthing his coin purse and pulled out a quarter, deciding that if it came up heads he would look at Gilbert’s text.

 

Oz dropped down onto his bed, situating himself so he was leaning back against the headboard, his legs crossed and his phone at his side. The moment before he flipped the coin felt tense, his hands a bit sweaty.

 

He wasn’t sure what he was wishing for as he tossed the coin, closing his eyes and involuntarily wincing when he caught it. With a deep breath he slapped it down on the back of his other hand and peered at the result, his eyes open little more than a crack.

 

Heads.

 

Oz’s breath left him in a whoosh of air, emptying out his lungs and leaving him feeling deflated. As he picked up his phone and opened Gilbert’s message, a thrum of apprehensive happiness ran through him.

 

What Gilbert had sent was a simple message, or it should have been, Oz supposed.

 

Open before him on his phone were the words: _Can I come over?_

 

Oz read the message once, then twice, then put his phone down only to pick it right back up and read the message again. He frowned, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck. The memory of his crash after Ada’s visit was still fresh in his mind, still leeching its way out of his bloodstream; the thought of having a friend over was appealing, but it also made his heartrate pick up and made his mind scream that it was a bad idea.

 

Oz wondered if – at this moment, in this present state of mind, an awkward mix of ‘okay’ and ‘suffering from what he’d been raised to believe’ – his fear was pulling more from a desire for self-preservation or from a desire to protect the people he cared about. He drummed his fingers on his phone, his train of thought – with no answer in sight – making his feel sick and weak and selfish for so many reasons. So many reasons, all of them butting heads, leaving him with conflictions that made making a decision an impossibility.

 

Oz took a deep, shuddering breath.

 

Then, lurching into action, he began searching his blankets for the coin he’d used.

 

If he couldn’t make a decision himself, he’d just have to keep relying on other means until he could.

 

~ ~ ~

 

By the time Oz had allowed his quarter to make his decision for him, it was getting close to 5:00 p.m. and the sun was setting. As a result, when Oz asked Oscar if Gilbert could come over, Oscar, on top of giving his permission, proposed turning the visit into a sleepover. Gilbert had responded to him quickly, saying he’d gotten permission from his parents, and within half an hour Oz and Gilbert had made themselves comfortable in the living room, Gilbert’s stuff piled up in a corner of the room. The sleeping situation had become something that would be sorted out later, Jack having already offered to sleep on the couch so Oz and Gilbert could take over the bedroom, while Gilbert insisted that he couldn’t possibly kick Jack out of his room for the night.

 

Light productivity on the homework that some of their teachers had assigned over the break was interspersed with general chatter and laughter and an occasional theory about the soap opera that was currently on the television as background noise.

 

Oscar and Jack were present, Oscar heavily involved in the plot of the soap opera while Jack was absorbed in a sketch pad. Oz and Gilbert did their best to keep their voices at a reasonable level and with each giggle that bubbled up out of Oz's mouth, he could feel something inside of him releasing. The last of his sickness was swept away and he wasn't sure how long that would last, but at the moment he didn't particularly care.

 

Oz rested against Gilbert, petulantly poked him on his cheek, clasped his hands. And when he got really passionate about a turn in their conversation, he would suddenly lean in, their faces too close, noses inches from brushing, Gilbert’s eyes fluttering about hectically, Oz’s heart sighing out a soft ‘ _oh_.’

 

With each touch and invasion of space Gilbert turned a deeper, lovelier shade of pink. He never pushed Oz away or asked him to stop, but instead tentatively returned the affection, pressing back against Oz or squeezing his hands or ruffling his hair. They easily fell into the same pattern as usual, Oz initiating touches and closeness because he couldn't resist and Gilbert seeming to get swept up in it.

 

And as the evening progressed, Oz felt that steadily-becoming-familiar sense of disappointment, his crush simmering behind his every action and word – hoping, anticipating, wishing for the moment when Gilbert would touch him first.

 

Gilbert was… overwhelmed. To say the least.

 

He’d kind of, sort of, thought somewhere deep down that the longer he was friends with Oz the easier being around him would become, but somehow instead of becoming desensitized, Gilbert found himself growing fonder and fonder and his reactions growing stronger and stronger. Oz’s easy affection made him feel like his insides were melting, set off a buzzing in his head, made his heart pound. He kept catching himself going to touch Oz at random points – just to feel him, the softness and warmth of his skin or the silkiness of his hair – but he always stopped, limiting himself to responding to Oz’s own touches.

 

Gilbert, having grown up with Vincent, was familiar with searching for small details indicative of boundaries and a decline in mental state, the latter of which had been almost painfully obvious to him in Oz over the first half of this week. He hadn’t asked Oz anything, already well aware that Oz wasn’t comfortable sharing the details of his personal problems given his grudging and vague explanation of how he’d gotten hurt when they met. And besides, Gilbert knew that the major issue had been taken care of and Oz was no longer at immediate risk, meaning there had been no reason to attempt to force anything out of him for his own good.

 

That being said, seeing the shadows under his eyes and the perpetual frown on his face and the expression that would come over him sometimes, like somewhere inside he was experiencing the worst kind of agony, had still been deeply concerning to Gilbert. Not fussing over Oz had been one of the hardest things he had possibly ever done in his life, but he’d _had to_.

 

And just like he’d had to respect Oz’s privacy in that matter, he knew that he also had to respect Oz’s boundaries regarding touch.

 

Gilbert had noticed that though Oz was a rather touchy person with Alice and Jack and Oscar and Gilbert himself, he was rather tense around everyone else. He reacted with slight flinches to sudden movements in his direction. He kept a certain amount of space between himself and others, his own personal bubble – something that only Alice and Jack and Oscar seemed to be allowed to break into at will. Gilbert had figured that that made since, seeing as the three of them had known Oz his whole life. All of this together, however, put Gilbert in the difficult position of not knowing what _he_ , a new addition to Oz’s life who happened to receive casual affection from Oz that Sharon and Xerxes didn’t, was allowed to do.

 

In the end, rather than succumbing to his crush-fueled desires, Gilbert had decided that it was best to be safe.

 

It was best to entirely avoid accidently crossing Oz’s boundaries.

 

It was best to let _Oz_ have control over their intimacy.

 

So, when Oz leaned in close to Gilbert, their noses almost touching, Oz’s breath hitting his lips, Oz’s hands squeezing his tightly, their knees pressed together as they sat facing each other on the couch, cross-legged, and all Gilbert wanted to do was grab Oz’s face and run his thumbs over his cheekbones and push his fingers back through his hair and brush their noses together in a moment of pure, heady, electrifying intimacy, he didn’t.

 

He stayed still.

 

He allowed himself nothing more than the action of squeezing Oz’s hands back.

 

He flushed and his eyes shifted about and he tried his absolute best to hear what Oz was saying over the thoughts flooding his head. And he continued to let Oz take the lead, let Oz define the parameters of their intimacy, let Oz set up a situation that he could handle and control and always be comfortable with.

 

When the decision regarding the sleeping arraignments came to a head, Oscar had already turned in for the night, having left the boys with and amused, “Don’t stay up too late,” his belief in the futility of his words clear in the frivolity of his tone. Hours and a devoured tub of ice cream later, Jack had risen from his chair, stretching.

 

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” Jack said, his mouth stretching around a yawn as he spoke. “Am I heading to my room or getting stuff to sleep out here?” His gaze moved between Oz and Gilbert, the two of them turning to stare at each other.

 

“I’m fine in the living room,” Gilbert said, slowly, not taking his eyes from Oz, who had been one giving him the most resistance on this idea.

 

Oz raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms. “In that case, I’ll sleep out here, too.”

 

Gilberts determination not to inconvenience Jack dissolved under a flash of panic. “But-” he started, cutting himself off before he could finish his thought, the words ‘you need proper rest’ on the tip of his tongue; Oz still looked worn out from whatever had caused his momentary emotional decline. Instead of voicing his concern, Gilbert continued with, “That’d be a waste of a bed though.”

 

Oz pouted at him. “Exactly. That’s why _we_ should take the bedroom instead of Jack.”

 

“Oz…”

 

“I’m fine with it, Gilbert,” Jack said, throwing himself into the conversation, drawing Gilbert’s attention to him. “Seriously.” He looked at Gilbert with a smile and complete sincerity. “I’d actually prefer it if you two took the room.”

 

Gilbert glanced between Jack and Oz, who was looking rather triumphant, and sighed in defeat, too tired to really continue putting up a fight on the matter. “Alright. I guess I’ll sleep in your room, then.” To Jack he said, “Thank you.”

 

They all took turns in the bathroom, it not being made for use by more than a single person at once, with Gilbert taking his turn last. As he left the bathroom the apartment was silent. He crept to Oz’s room, navigating his way through the dark, hesitating for a moment with his hand on the doorknob before opening it.

 

Oz was sitting on the bed furthest from the door. He looked up as Gilbert came in.

 

“I thought you might be more comfortable taking my bed,” he said, gesturing towards the other bed in the room, “instead of Jack’s.”

 

“Oh,” Gilbert said, staring blankly for a moment. “Right, yeah.” He moved towards the bed, stopping when Oz asked him to turn off the lights, then very carefully walked through the darkness, the moonlight from the room’s single window doing little more than giving objects a vague outline. When he reached the bed, he sat down, pulling the covers up over his lap.

 

The room was quiet except for Gilbert’s shuffling and, as he settled in and quieted down, the faint sound of Oz breathing. He paused, listening to it, straining his ears.

 

He was listening so closely that when Oz asked, softly, “Why did you want to come over?” he jumped, startled.

 

“Why?” Gilbert asked, as if clarifying that Oz had really meant what he’d said.

 

“Yeah. Why?”

 

Gilbert frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. Part of the reason he’d asked was because of the worry he’d been feeling over Oz, but he was positive Oz wouldn’t appreciate hearing that, which left him with the other reason he’d asked. “I, um, missed you.” He laughed sheepishly, short and faint.

 

“You…” Oz’s voice sounded surprised, shifting into something gentle and pleased as he said, “Oh. I- Okay.” A second passed and then giggles began to float over to Gilbert from Oz’s side of the room. “Gee, Gil,” Oz said, tone dragging with drowsiness and laced with fond amusement, “you sure can be smooth when you want to, huh.”

 

“I-! I wasn’t trying to-!” Gilbert protests were met with more laughter; beautiful laughter that sang through his ears even as it made his face burn with embarrassment.

 

“Goodnight, Gil,” Oz said as his laughter began to die off. “Be sure to wake me up in the morning if I’m still sleeping when you get up, okay?”

 

“I will.” Gilbert grasped at the blankets covering him, squeezing the soft material for comfort. “Goodnight, Oz.” Oz hummed in response and the room quickly went silent again.

 

Gilbert wiggled into a laying position, turning onto his side and trying to get comfortable. As he did so, he realized the blankets smelled like Oz.

 

Gilbert felt his body flood with heat, the warmth starting in his chest and drifting out, like a glow. As Gilbert relaxed, fighting the urge to pull the blankets securely up over his nose, he wondered if maybe he should tell Oz how he felt.

 

He ended up falling asleep with fantasies of love confessions floating through his head.


	12. Interlude 2: A Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I vanished for June and I'm coming back with something so short. I tried to make this interlude decent, but I'm not sure it feels the way I wanted it to and I've tried editing it, but I don't want to look at it anymore so...

A buzzing near Jack’s head woke him up, his light sleep easily disturbed. He partially opened his eyes, groggy and disoriented, and groaned softly. The room was dark, the apartment silent except for the sound of his own breathing. He readjusted himself on the couch, tiredness pulling at his mind, and just as he was about to slip to go back into sleep, he heard another buzz. Conscious enough now to recognize the sound as his phone, Jack began to half-heartedly pat around for it with a sigh.

 

When his fingers closed around the phone he shifted onto his back and brought it up to his face. He braced himself and woke up it up, squinting at the harsh light and hoping that whoever had texted him had a damn good reason for it.

 

The time 6:45 a.m. stared at him and, after taking a second to process it, Jack mumbled a soft, “What the fuck,” as he swept his thumb across the screen. He dragged down the top bar, planning to click on the text notification, and the instant he saw the name of the sender his eyes widened and he bolded upright, suddenly very awake. More awake, maybe, than he’d been in months – his entire body lit up like someone had flicked light switch and pulsing with a shock of energy.

 

“What the _fuck_?” Jack said again, the words tumbling from his lips in a rush as he frantically clicked on the notification. The name ‘Oswald’ was burned into his eyes, a name he hadn’t seen on his phone since last summer – after Lacie had run away and Jack, his despair making him stupid, had picked a fight with her older brother, blaming him for Lacie’s unhappiness and risking losing one of his closest friendships. Jack had apologized a few weeks later after he’d cooled off and shame over his rash and cruel accusations had washed over him, but at that point it’d been too late; a rift had formed between himself and Oswald and they’d quickly grown distant.

 

Jack scanned Oswald’s messages and then re-read them, his heart pounding hard and fast. They were straight-forward, simple and to-the-point, yet their contents were mystifying: Oswald had gotten a letter from Lacie and apparently part of it was addressed to Jack; Oswald was also currently back in town for fall break and wanted to meet up with Jack at the library.

 

Jack, his hands trembling, stumbled over typing out a reply, agreeing to meet Oswald when the library opened at 8 a.m.

 

Jack didn’t know, for sure, why Lacie had run away. She had never told him much about her home life and Jack hadn’t pushed the matter since he’d also preferred to keep quiet about _his_ situation. The only clear, irrefutable detail he could recall was that her brother and Alice were the only family members that she felt any affection for.

 

Though she didn’t talk about what she went through, Lacie had no qualms about talking about how much she wanted to leave. Her eyes would go distant as she spoke, a smile tugging at her lips and her tone filled with determination. With want. With _need_. Dreams of finding a better home, making it with her own hands, instilling it with love and happiness and warmth flowed from her mouth and curled around Jack, feeling to him like a safety blanket. Lacie had been the reason Jack had had hope for the future; he’d been enraptured by her fantasies, never imagining that he wouldn’t be a part of the future she set out for – that he and Oswald and Alice and Oz would be left in the dust while Lacie snuck off in the dead of night with her graduation money and a book bag stuffed with clothes.

 

This was the first time since she’d run off that she’d gotten in contact with any of them.

 

After receiving Oswald’s text, Jack couldn’t fall back asleep. He paced the living room, debating calling Oswald and demanding that he tell him everything immediately, but that would most likely end with Oswald’s refusal and their plans to meet getting canceled – a possibility that Jack absolutely could _not_ risk.

 

In a quiet frenzy Jack ended up getting ready for the day, washing up and silently slipping into his room to grab some clothes. He then made breakfast, cooking much more than he needed for himself as a way to make the time pass faster and wrapping up the leftovers. When he finished washing the dishes he’d used he still had 20 minutes left, but decided to head out anyway, leaving behind a hastily written note for Oscar so he would know where he’d gone.

 

Jack arrived early and sat on one of the benches outside the library’s doors, the chilly air numbing his nose and the tips of his fingers as he waited. It was cold enough now that his breaths were white puffs of air and Oscar had begun insisting that he and Oz start wearing coats. A couple cars were in the parking lot, people Jack assumed were also waiting for the library to open, and – at what must have been 8:00 on the dot – those people left their cars and hurried in through the library’s doors.

 

Jack was sniffling and blowing hot air into his palms when a car pulled into the parking spot directly in front of him. It took him a second, but when he realized that he recognized that car he practically leapt up from his seat. The door opened and Oswald climbed out and Jack stood still and breathless at his first sight of Oswald in months. It felt like a punch to his stomach, sudden and jarring.

 

Jack had known he’d been lonely. He’d felt it in his bones and every aching breath – the absence of Lacie and Oswald from his life always tugging at the back of his mind.

 

He’d known he’d been lonely, but somehow that still wasn’t enough to prepare him for the full weight of that loneliness slamming into him when he laid eyes on Oswald.

 

Oswald, meanwhile, was closing his car door. He brushed a hand through his short, black hair, the bangs falling right back into place, and started walking towards Jack. His sharp eyes seemed to soften, like he was glad to see Jack, and Jack could feel a smile spreading across his face.

 

“It’s been a while!” Jack said, finally able to move again. He met Oswald at the sidewalk, enveloping him in a hug.

 

Oswald awkwardly hugged him back and, as Jack began to pull away, he asked, “You’ve been okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve been alright,” Jack replied, sniffling. Oswald hummed, reaching into one of his jacket pockets and taking out a small handful of tissues. He offered them to Jack, who took them with a, “Thanks,” blowing his nose and following Oswald as he walked towards the library’s doors.

 

Oswald held one of the doors open for him and Jack dropped the tissues into a trashcan as he walked in, the warm air washing over him and wracking a few final shivers from his body as it replaced the icy chill that had settled into his limbs.

 

“So…” Jack said, trying not to sound too desperate as he trailed after Oswald. “What’s going on? With Lacie?”

 

Oswald sighed, shaking his head. He stopped at a table and the two of them sat down across from each other. “Like I said,” Oswald began, “she got a letter to me somehow.” He reached into his pocket again, pulling out an envelope this time. “It doesn’t have a return address and it doesn’t have _my_ address on it either, just my name. Honestly, I have no idea how she managed to get it to my mailbox.” He set the envelope down in front of Jack who quickly pulled it towards himself and peered inside. “I took the letter addressed to me out and left yours.” Oswald leaned his elbows onto the table, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers, watching Jack.

 

Jack pulled the letter out, glancing between it and Oswald. “Do you think she knows someone at your college and got them to deliver it for her?”

 

Oswald shrugged. “It’s possible, but, to be fair, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d managed to talk a complete stranger into hunting me down.” They shared a faint smile, both of them intimately familiar with Lacie’s persuasive nature. “Go on, read it. I can tell you’re dying to.”

 

Apprehension and excitement swirling inside of him, Jack opened the letter. It wasn’t particularly long, but it was written in Lacie’s neat, curving script and Jack could feel his insides melting as he looked it over:

 

_Hello Jack,_

_I hope your last year of high school is going well; you were always so involved with everything, so you’d better be making the most of it. I know it’s been a few months and I know you must have been worried. And feeling betrayed? Maybe? You know, I’m not sure I could take it if you hated me now, Jack._

_I’m settled into my new life – a job, an apartment, friends. But I want you to know that when I left, it wasn’t to make my dream come true. When I left, it was to escape. It was an act of desperation. I miss you. I wish you and Oswald and Alice were all here with me. I know this is coming late and you might not want anything to do with my anymore, but I love you Jack. I hope I can see you again someday._

 

The letter was finished off with a heart and a phone number.

 

When Jack looked up at Oswald, he could feel tears stinging his eyes. Oswald reached across the table, wrapping a hand around one of Jack’s wrists and moving his thumb in a soothing motion.

 

“She seems like she’s doing okay, right?” Oswald asked. “Kind of lonely, but not suffering.” When Jack nodded, Oswald pushed on, adding, as if to reassure both of them, “That’s good. This was good for her.”

 

Jack nodded again. He understood. He _got it_. Sometimes, you had to save yourself, no matter what sacrifices you had to make in the process to do it, because not everyone had someone like Oscar – someone to save the day; someone to protect them and make them feel safe.

 

There was a pause and then Oswald said, “I’m planning on calling her.” His grip on Jack’s wrist tightened slightly, the only indication of the turmoil he must have been experiencing. “I’m hoping she’ll agree to let us visit.”

 

“You think she might?” Jack asked, his eyes dropping back to the letter. She’d said she hoped they’d see each other again, but something about it felt so… hopeless. As if she’d given up on the very idea even as she’d written it down.

 

“I’m not sure. It’s worth a shot though, isn’t it?”

 

Jack took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Lacie said no to seeing them again, wasn’t sure he could handle the heartbreak. At the same time, he couldn’t stand the thought of not trying, of doing nothing after he’d been given this opportunity. “Yeah,” he said, the word sending ribbons of anxiety into his stomach. “Yeah, it’s worth a shot.”


	13. Answers (December Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking one more chapter. Here's hoping it feels like it's wrapping up nicely! About this chapter though, I tried looking to see if I’ve already made up stuff about Alice’s homelife and couldn’t find anything, so if there actually is something in an earlier chapter and it contradicts what I put in this one. I’m sorry. And, since I made Lacie Alice’s cousin, I decided to make some ocs as Alice’s mothers (and they have a really small part, but I high-key love them and hope that you guys do too).

There was a pull of tension around both Jack and Gilbert, dragging them into distraction more and more often as days passed from the morning after Oz and Gilbert’s sleepover.

 

Jack had told Oz the news about Lacie the second he got home, the words flooding out of him like a leak in a dam. He spoke too fast for Oz to catch everything and then, still confused about what exactly had happened, Oz had suddenly been wrapped in a tight hug and spun around, the force of Jack’s giddy elation not giving him the chance to object even if he’d wanted to. Gilbert had stood by, glancing between the two of them with his head tilted to the side and a vague smile on his lips – not immune to the rush of happiness Jack had brought with him into the room. When Jack noticed Gilbert, he seemed to come back to himself, releasing Oz and straightening his clothes, saying, “I’ll explain better later,” and giving Gilbert a small wave before excusing himself to go find Oscar.

 

Oz had been delighted for him when he heard that Jack had gotten back in contact with Oswald and Lacie and that he and Oswald were planning to visit Lacie over winter break. Oscar had put up some resistance to the idea of Jack traveling out of the state in the middle of winter, but he hadn’t been able to resist Jack’s and Oz’s arguments for long, giving in on the condition that Jack would call him every night he was away.

 

When it came to Jack’s distractedness, Oz didn’t mind so much. He knew it had to do with daydreams of seeing Lacie again or, if he was lost in his phone, text conversations with Lacie and Oswald. He knew it was rooted in Jack’s desire to reconnect with people he cared for; that it didn’t mean Jack cared for him any less – the two of them still as affectionate as always and still talking often, sharing news and complaints about their days and exchanging light teasing that Oscar often got dragged into.

 

Gilbert’s distractedness was different.

 

Oz had no idea what was causing it and that instilled a pulse of anxiety under his skin. Gilbert was even more reserved around Oz lately and often avoided looking at him altogether. They still talked as often as usual and Gilbert still let Oz touch him, but Oz was starting to feel like he must have overstepped Gilbert’s boundaries and Gilbert was too shy to say anything about it.

 

Or – a suggestion like a persistent ache rising up from his subconscious – maybe Gilbert was just getting sick of him. Part of Oz didn’t even want to entertain the thought, while another part of him insisted that it would be for the best for Gilbert in the long run if that was the case. Both parts of him felt the assessment as a deep sense of loss, hollowing out his stomach and squeezing painfully at his heart.

 

Oz had been debating bringing up his situation with Gilbert to Alice for days when he tossed himself onto Alice’s bed with a long sigh.

 

It’d been a while since Oz and Alice had spent time together with just the two of them, so they’d planned to hang out at her house during the weekend for some overdue ‘best friend time.’ Her parents were home – one of her mothers, Clara, was rounder and business-like with light skin and short black hair while the other, Nina, was tall and approachable with dark skin and cascading curls. Both of them had been happy to see Oz, waving at him from the living room and telling him that they’d missed seeing him around the house.

 

Nina had sighed, leaning over the back of the couch and shaking her head as she said, “First Oswald graduates and moves out of Levi’s house to go off to college, then Lacie runs off, then next thing I know I haven’t seen _you_ in weeks!”

 

Clara had come up behind her, running her hands up Nina’s back to rest on her shoulders and smiling at Oz. “We were starting to be afraid we were losing our last unofficial child.”

 

Nina had hummed in agreement. “The three of you used to come by so often. You know, we still keep buying enough groceries for six?” She’d laughed, placing a hand overtop of one of Clara’s. “I’ve been telling Clara that maybe we should have had a bigger family.”

 

“And I’ve been telling _Nina_ that giving birth once was enough for me, thank you very much.”

 

Nina had lifted Clara’s hand, pressing a fond kiss into her inner wrist, and a soft smile had pulled up the corners of Clara’s mouth. Oz had glanced over at Alice, who was leaning on the entryway to the living room, rolling her eyes at her mothers, but clearly resigned to sitting through the little exchange. Oz, on the other hand, had been genuinely enjoying himself; he’d always liked interacting with Alice’s mothers, liked seeing how much the two of them loved each other and Alice. It was impossible to feel uncomfortable in their house, surrounded by their warmth and affection.

 

“But honestly Ozzy,” Nina had said, entwining her fingers with her wife’s as she lowered her hand from her mouth. “We’ve missed you!”

 

“It’s true,” Alice had said, turning to Oz. “They’ve been seriously thinking about adoption ever since you stopped coming by and it’s been getting worse since we all started going to Oscar’s and I’ve been staying out later.”

 

“Oh, speaking of,” Clara had begun, leaning forward, her body pressing flush with Nina’s, “is our baby dating that Sharon girl she keeps going out with?”

 

“Okay! Come on Oz!” Alice had exclaimed, bursting off from the entryway and pushing at Oz, trying to direct him towards the staircase as quickly as she could. “We’ll be upstairs, don’t bother us,” she’d said to her mothers with a glance over her shoulder.

 

“See Oz, she won’t tell us _any_ thing,” Clara had called after them while Nina laughed, the sound of it audible even after they’d reached the landing.

 

Once Alice’s door was closed and Oz had gotten comfortable on her bed, Oz turned to her and raised an eyebrow. Alice was sitting on a swivel desk chair, spinning back and forth, her fingers toying with the pendent of a necklace that she’d gotten from Sharon. Alice had been showing the necklace off to Oz proudly the other day. She had explained to him that it was a gift that Sharon had given her because the black rabbit pendent had made Sharon think of her and that when Sharon had insisted she didn’t need a present in return, Alice had given her a kiss. After hearing about what had happened, Oz had started to notice that they were being more affectionate than usual when they were around each other – their fingers intertwined at every opportunity and Sharon gazing at Alice with an almost unbearably soft expression.

 

Thinking about it now, Oz realized that they were starting to remind him a lot of Alice’s mothers.

 

“You don’t want your moms to know that you’re dating Sharon?” Oz asked, folding his arms under his chin.

 

Alice gave her necklace a few sharp tugs and shook her head. “No,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “It’d be embarrassing.”

 

“Would it?”

 

Alice’s mouth shifted into a pout. “Yes.” She dropped the pendent and crossed her arms, the speed of her spinning back and forth picking up. “They’ll want to meet her and they’ll end up saying a bunch of embarrassing stuff.”

 

Oz snorted, shaking his head. “I mean, that’s probably true. But it’s only because they’ll be so happy for you.”

 

Alice let out a huff of breath, the annoyance slipping from her features and her crossed arms relaxing. “I know,” she said, softly. She then stopped her spinning, rocking forward in the chair and fixing Oz with an intense look. “So, what’s been bugging you?”

 

It was Oz’s turn to become evasive, his eyes flitting away from Alice’s gaze as he tried, and failed, to subtly shift himself so he was no longer looking directly at her and instead staring at the relative safety of her bedroom door.

 

He’d been thinking about mentioning Gilbert to her but faced with the reality of _doing it_ he was suddenly overwhelmed with nervousness. Alice didn’t even know that he had a crush on Gilbert yet and, honestly, the thing he was most scared about was her reaction when she found out that he’d been keeping this information to himself since October. He did, however, desperately want a second opinion on what he’d done wrong and what he should do about it because…

 

Because Oz didn’t want to lose Gilbert. Not if he could help it.

 

Oz decided to ease his way into his concerns, saying, “Have you… thought that Gilbert’s been acting odd recently at all?”

 

Alice tilted her head to the side. “Like how?” she asked.

 

Oz bit down on his bottom lip, wondering how best to explain. “Like,” he began, slowly, “well, like something’s bothering him, I guess.”

 

Alice hummed and Oz peered over at her. She had a finger pressed to her mouth, her eyebrows furrowed. She finally settled on “Maybe?” and shrugged. “Why? You think something’s wrong?”

 

“Kind of. I’m afraid I may have overstepped his boundaries.”

 

“Did he say something?”

 

“No, but I swear he’s been acting different.”

 

Alice absentmindedly started up her spinning again. “He lets you touch him though. He doesn’t seem bothered by it.”

 

“But _I’m_ always the one who does that kind of thing first and he stopped doing it back ever since we had a sleepover a few weeks ago.”

 

Alice peered at Oz. “You’re really bothered about this, huh?”

 

Oz rolled his head to the side, groaning. “I don’t want to have upset him.”

 

“I think,” Alice said, back to toying with her pendent, “you’re going to have to talk to _him_ about it. Personally, I don’t think he’s upset with you? But if you think something’s wrong you’ve gotta ask.” She bounced in place, slamming her hands down on the seat between her legs. “You’ve got to be _direct_!”

 

Oz frowned, wrinkling his nose. “That sounds right, but also really unpleasant. Especially since Gil is so…” Oz pushed himself up onto his elbows, gesturing vaguely with his hands and grimacing. “You know.”

 

Alice laughed loudly, throwing her head back.

 

“Don’t laugh,” Oz whined. “It’s going to be _so_ awkward.” When Alice just kept on laughing at him and his future suffering Oz grabbed one of her pillows and threw it at her. They dissolved into a pillow fight, broken up by Clara who knocked on the door to drop off snacks and, upon seeing the chaos that Alice’s room had become, told them to behave.

 

They settled down, sitting cross-legged on Alice’s floor, the large plate of snacks placed between them.

 

Oz was finishing a slice of apple, licking the sticky juice off of his fingers, and leaning back against Alice’s bed. He looked over at her and, his stomach swirling with butterflies, said, “I like him.”

 

Alice blinked, processing, then her eyes widened. “Huh!?” she exclaimed. “You like someone!? Who!? Since when!?”

 

Oz blew out a long breath, Alice growing more and more impatient as she was forced to wait. “Yeah, I like someone. It’s, um, Gil…”

 

“Oh!” Alice’s eyes were gleaming. “That’s why you care so much.”

 

“No, it’s- I mean, kind of. But, no.” Oz grabbed one of the napkins, wiping his hands and starting to twist it up.

 

He cared a lot about Gilbert. Even if those feelings were platonic, he was sure he would have still been distressed at the thought of having upset him, the same way he would have been if he thought he’d upset Alice or Jack. So few people made Oz feel like he mattered, like he was appreciated and loved, like he was worth something. Gilbert happened to be one of those few.

 

His importance to Oz ran deeper than a simple crush.

 

He was Oz’s friend.

 

“He’s just important to me. Like how you are,” Oz said, gesturing towards Alice. “My crush on him is… it’s less important than that.”

 

Alice was smiling at him. “But it’s why you want him to be affectionate with you, isn’t it,” she teased.

 

Oz felt a flush of heat roll through his body and he grabbed up another apple slice, stuffing it into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to respond.

 

“You gonna tell him?” Alice asked.

 

Oz choked. “ _No_ ,” he coughed, slamming a fist into his chest and clearing his throat. “No! No, no.”

 

“Aw, why not?”

 

“ _Because_ ,” Oz stressed, “it’s not important.”

 

“You don’t want to date him?” Alice asked, popping an apple slice into her mouth.

 

Oz frowned, a wave of emotions going through him. Did he want to date Gilbert? Did he want to be able to tell him how much he liked him and cared for him? Did he want to be able to hold him and kiss him?

 

Honestly, Oz wasn’t sure. It all sounded nice, but it also came with his typical fear: what if Gilbert became too important to him, what if that caused him to get hurt?

 

Oz shook his head. “All I really care about,” he said, “is making sure that Gil still actually wants to be friends with me.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Gilbert was a disaster. An absolute mess. Completely and utterly falling apart.

 

Ever since he’d started entertaining the idea of confessing to Oz, he’d been more nervous around him. Looking at Oz made his heart flutter and his mouth feel dry. Oz touching him made him blush and sent his head spinning. Any attempts to maybe actually confess were ruined by his throat closing up and his tongue deciding it didn’t know how to form words.

 

In short, Gilbert was at an impasse – his own desire to be closer to Oz sabotaging him as his influx of nervousness had him pulling away instead.

 

He and Oz were at Gilbert’s house for a change. It was a Friday after school and a couple inches of snow had fallen over the course of the day, not enough to really be able to play in, but enough for little kids to get excited about anyway. Gilbert had been at Oz’s apartment with everyone else when a woman had stopped by with a little girl who, as Oz had leaned in to whisper to him, Gilbert learned was Ada, Oz’s little sister. At that point, Sharon, Xerxes, and Reim had been getting ready to go so Gilbert, seeing how Ada was practically plastered to the apartment window, cooing over the snow outside, had suggested he, Oz, and Alice take Ada to his house to play in the yard.

 

Ada had lit up like she’d been told the most amazing news she’d heard all day and – with Oscar’s and the woman’s, Mrs. Kate’s – permission Gilbert, Oz, and Alice had set off, walking the couple of blocks to Gilbert’s house.

 

Ada, dressed in a puffy coat and mittens, had been between Gilbert and Oz, holding one of each of their hands while Alice had walked ahead of them, following Gilbert’s directions. The whole way there, Ada’s attention had been divided between stepping into the footprints Alice was leaving and asking Gilbert questions.

 

At the moment, Alice and Ada were spread out in Gilbert’s yard making snow angels and Vincent, having come out, was hovering nearby. Gilbert and Oz were seated on Gilbert’s porch, having dusted as much of the snow off as they could before sitting down.

 

Gilbert could feel Oz glancing at him as they watched the others play. The attention was making him fidgety, his fingers tapping in his lap and his feet bouncing on the step below the one he was sitting on.

 

Gilbert was just about to break the silence between them, not quite sure what he would say to do that, when Oz finally spoke, saying, “Gil,” the nickname sweet like honey coming from his mouth and causing a riot of butterflies in Gilbert’s stomach, “have I done anything wrong? Or upset you at all?”

 

Gilbert whipped around to look at Oz so fast that he nearly went tumbling off of the stairs. “What?” he asked, genuinely baffled at where such an idea could have come from. “No, no of course not!”

 

Oz was frowning at him, his nose and cheeks pink from the cold and a hat pulled on over his golden hair, the ends of it sticking out at his forehead and around his ears. He’d look cute, if it wasn’t obvious how bothered he was, his eyes staring into Gilbert’s filled with apprehension and disbelief.

 

Gilbert glanced over at the others, checking to make sure they were still wrapped up in their playing, before asking Oz, his voice low to ensure their privacy, “Why? Is there something I did to make you think that?”

 

Oz huffed out a breath, a cloud of white air escaping his mouth. “I’ve been trying to come up with a way of saying this delicately, but I think I’m going to have to be blunt.” There was a beat of silence, Oz’s eyes flickering away from Gilbert’s for a moment before he looked back, resolved. “You’ve been acting odd ever since our sleepover and even though you don’t seem like you mind me being affectionate with you, _you’re_ never affectionate with _me_. So, I want to know if I overstepped a boundary without realizing it at the sleepover.”

 

Gilbert felt his world grinding to a halt at this misunderstanding, guilt wracking through him. “No,” he said, shaking his head so hard he started to feel a little dizzy. “No, you haven’t done anything wrong or overstepped any boundaries.” Oz was still looking at him skeptically, so he added, “I promise.”

 

“Is something else wrong then?”

 

“I’ve… had something on my mind lately. Nothing bad.”

 

Oz started at him for a few more seconds before nodding. “Okay. I won’t ask about your super suspicious secret. As long as it doesn’t have anything to do with me upsetting you somehow.”

 

“It doesn’t,” Gilbert was quick to assure him.

 

Oz nodded again. Then, following a brief hesitation, he said, “Is there a reason you’re not affectionate though? Does it embarrass you? Should I… stop?”

 

Gilbert, beginning to feel a bit like a broken record, again shook his head, saying, “No.” He stared at Oz’s hands where they lay in his lap and, without allowing himself time to really think about it, he snatched them up, squeezing them in both of his own. “I don’t mind it when you’re affectionate. It’s nice. I just, um, don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

 

Oz raised an eyebrow. “By being affectionate with me? Like I’ve been doing with you for a while now?” he asked, his tone making his incredulousness clear. And, sure, when he phrased it like that it sounded stupid, but…

 

“Well, see, I thought you might be more comfortable if you had control over when you were touched. Or how…” Gilbert dragged his thumbs back and forth across Oz’s knuckles, wishing he was touching his skin rather than having two layers of gloves between them. “I don’t know what your _situation_ was exactly, but I… I see how you don’t seem to like a lot of people touching you. I didn’t want to push you.”

 

As Gilbert spoke, Oz’s heart started pounding harder and faster – a mix of the talk of his past situation and the revelation of why Gilbert had been so reserved about touching him in the first place. The thought of Gilbert trying so hard to be considerate of him made Oz’s breath catch and the sincerity he saw in Gilbert’s eyes made him shiver. Oz licked his lips, dropping his eyes to their clasped hands.

 

He squeezed Gilbert’s fingers.

 

He wanted to pull him closer.

 

He wanted to breathe Gilbert in, to press a kiss to his lips, to hold him tight.

 

Instead, Oz said, “If you did something that I didn’t want you to do, I would tell you.”

 

Gilbert’s thumbs stilled on Oz’s hands. “I… okay. Okay. I’ll remember that.” Oz looked up and Gilbert was smiling at him – small and nervous, but filled with a warmth that Oz wanted to keep inside of himself forever.

 

The moment was broken when a snowball crashed into Gilbert’s shoulder, bursting apart and spraying both Gilbert and Oz in the face. They released each other, both of them sputtering as Alice laughed and Ada shrieked and, exchanging a grin, the two of them lurched off of the porch to join in on the snowball fight.

 

They went inside to wait for Oscar to come pick Oz, Ada, and Alice up after the sun had finally finished its descent, the sky going from vibrant reds and oranges and pinks to the dark blue of night and the temperature dropping even more with it. Gilbert’s mother was home and, with five chilly kids on her hands she had immediately set about warming up soup for them to eat, Gilbert slipping into the kitchen to help with getting the dishes together.

 

They were done eating and had moved onto siting around, half-paying attention to the television when Oz starting to get a bit concerned about what could be taking Oscar so long. As he was pulling out his phone to send him a text, there was a knock at the door. Gilbert’s mother went to answer it, returning with Jack.

 

Jack looked distressed, one of his hands pulling on his earing, his mouth twisted up in displeasure. When he spotted Oz his concern only seemed to worsen.

 

Oz, taking Ada by the hand, walked over to Jack, a feeling of dread rising up in his stomach and sending ice into his veins.

 

“What’s wrong?” Oz asked.

 

Jack shook his head. “We should talk at home,” he said, grabbing Ada’s other hand.

 

Alice walked up behind them and with a goodbye to Gilbert and his family, they left. Alice, sensing the tense mood, occupied herself with Ada in the car and, after reaching the apartment went to her own car to go home instead of trying to stick around for longer. She left Oz with a tight hug and peck on the cheek, her eyes moving between him and Jack and Oscar as she waved goodbye.

 

In the apartment, Oscar, Jack, and Oz sat down in the living room, Mrs. Kate taking Ada to the kitchen to wait. Oscar told Oz that Zai had stopped by, angry at the fact that Oscar was trying to demand custody of Ada. He told him that he didn’t think this was going to end amicably. That he may actually have to take Zai to court on this matter. That if he went through with this, people would likely want to talk to Oz.

 

“I just want to make sure that you’re all right,” Oscar said, his voice soft and his expression gentle and full of understanding.

 

Oz – still processing the information, the full weight of it not quite landing on him yet – had nodded.

 

He nodded because it felt important.

 

Because he loved Ada.

 

Because he trusted Oscar and had to believe that everything would be okay.

  

He went to sleep that night in Jack’s bed, the two of them curled together again for the first time in weeks. The sound of Jack’s breathing and the reassurance of their hands clasped together between them eased Oz into sleep despite the fear and pain swirling around him and inside of him. The fear and pain that swelled and swelled and swelled and nearly overtook him, if not for the memory of Gilbert’s warm smile and Alice’s tight hug, a soothing balm, and the reality of Jack beside him.


	14. Busy (December Part 2-January)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are; final chapter! I hope it’s sweet and satisfying and not like. Anticlimactic… (￣◇￣;) Anyway! Thank you all so much for reading my fic and for all the comments and kudos! <3

Oz’s life continued like normal.

 

He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened between his father and Oscar, but a week passed and Zai didn’t make another appearance. The tension was beginning to slip from Oz’s body and the dread that had made itself at home in his stomach was clearing up. He became less jumpy, though the rise in his paranoia didn’t quite vanish.

 

For the most part, Oz and Jack were kept out of the situation with Zai. Oscar was open to discussing it with them if that was what they wanted, telling them that they were certainly old enough to be let in on what was going on, but he also stressed the fact that they shouldn’t worry over it.

 

“I’m going to take care of everything,” Oscar had said, smiling brightly at Oz and Jack and patting them on their heads. His smile hadn’t been as carefree as it usually was, but his confidant tone and the familiar feeling of his hand mussing up Oz’s hair had been reassuring nonetheless.

 

The most involved Oz and Jack got were through their interviews regarding life with Zai. Other people had been interviewed as well – Oscar, Jack’s and Oz’s therapists, Mrs. Kate, Ada. The person who had spoken to Oz had been kind and patient. It had put Oz as at ease he could be, his pulse still rapid and his fingers fidgeting. At multiple points Oz had caught himself rubbing at the scar on his cheek, feeling distant, his own voice that of a stranger. By the end of it he hadn’t been sure what all he’d said, the whole thing was blur – the only parts of it he took away with him were the interviewer’s smile, the scratching sound of a pen, the phantom feeling of his mouth moving, and the urge to keep rubbing and rubbing and rubbing at his scar.

 

The week following the interviews brought midterms, Oscar’s announcement that they would be moving from the apartment into a proper house, and the approach of Oz’s birthday. There was so much chaos that Oz had barely had time to spare a thought for his father, pulling him even further from the distress that Zai’s unannounced visit had caused. The flurry of activity was anxiety-inducing in its own way, but Oz was honestly enjoying keeping busy.

 

The Wednesday two days before Oz’s birthday consisted of moving, all of Oz’s friends dragged into helping with the process. Oscar had been house-hunting since about mid-November and his determination to take custody of Ada had further fueled the flames of his desperate search. The home he’d found was a few blocks from the school and in the opposite direction of Gilbert’s house, but it had four bedrooms and was near Alice’s so Oz was content with it.

 

All of the kids were still recovering from their exams as they hurriedly packed up boxes, stuffing them into Alice’s, Sharon’s, and Oscar’s cars. A moving-truck would be coming by later to pick up the furniture.

 

It was early in the morning when Oz’s friends dragged themselves to his apartment, Oscar thanking them for their sacrifice and promising them a large lunch when they finished up. They all worked up such a sweat moving the boxes that the frigid air outside actually felt good on their overheated skin and the only thing keeping them from peeling off their coats was Oscar, who was quick to tell them that he ‘didn’t want anyone getting sick’ anytime he so much as thought he heard a zipper.

 

About two hours into the frenzy, Alice released a sigh, leaning against her car, her body limp like she was considering falling over. Oz, having just finished dropping off a box in Oscar’s car walked over to her, leaning against her car beside her.

 

Alice glanced up at him and, before he had the chance to ask if she was okay, she sniffled and asked, “Jack’s gonna be gone for your guys’ birthday, right?” Her nose was bright red, her coat was unzipped, and as she turned towards Oz she started lazily fanning herself with one gloved hand even as a shiver wracked her body.

 

“Yeah,” Oz said, nodding. “He’s leaving with Oswald tomorrow morning. He was thinking about sticking around because…” Oz paused, his mouth twisting up.

 

After the situation with Ada escalated into taking their father to court, Jack had started to think it would be best if he stayed with Oz until it all blew over. He’d mentioned it to Oz after their interviews, his words tentative – his want to see Lacie and his want to help Oz quite clearly pulling him in two directions. Oz – worn out, his head still a bit fuzzy – had only had the energy to shake his head and say, “No,” repeating himself each time Jack offered a protest until he finally added, “I want you to go.” Oz had smiled at him, soft and small and real and meaning what he’d said with every fiber of his being. The last thing he’d wanted was to disrupt Jack’s happiness, to steal the buoyant energy that had filled him ever since he’d settled his plans to see Lacie. Jack hadn’t looked completely convinced, but he’d nodded and didn’t end up going through with canceling his trip.

 

“Because of the move and everything,” Oz finally continued, rubbing at the back of his neck. He stared at his feet, feeling a bit bad for the lie, but pressed on. “I talked him out of it though.”

 

“Oh, good!” Alice exclaimed. Oz looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, it’s sad he’s not gonna be here and we’ll have to throw such an amazing party that he’ll be jealous forever, but I think Lacie is going to be happy to see him.” Alice clasped her hands in front of her and sniffled again, her expression contemplative. “Lacie wasn’t very good at being alone. I’ve been worried about her ever since she ran away. And Jack was her absolute favorite person!” Alice stared straight at Oz and shook her head sadly. “I know she wouldn’t have wanted to leave him. Not really.”

 

Oz hummed, thinking about how broken up Jack had been when Lacie had vanished. He wondered if Lacie had had it just as bad. If she’d wondered why life couldn’t have worked in her favor, just that once. Why she couldn’t have had freedom and the people she cared about at the same time. “It’ll be good for them to see each other again,” Oz said.

 

As he looked at Alice, he wondered if he’d be able to have what Lacie was slowly piecing together.

 

Oz had always thought that one day he’d move on, leave his home behind and his brother behind and his friends behind. He’d always thought he’d be alone.

 

Like Lacie when she ran away, but different.

 

When Oz had pictured his future of loneliness it wasn’t as a means of achieving freedom. If anything, it was the result of being trapped. Wrapped up in the fear his father had instilled in him – fear, not of Zai, but of himself. He’d fallen so deeply into that fear that he’d never contemplated allowing people to stay close to him once he had the opportunity to remove himself from their lives.

 

Now, he couldn’t help but wonder if he could keep them.

 

If he was allowed to stay with them.

 

If he was allowed to be happy.

 

Oz wasn’t sure when it had happened. When his fear of causing harm to the people he cared about had changed from a matter of “when” to a matter of “if” to a possibility that was slowly but steadily distancing itself from his thoughts. The change had snuck up on him, hitting him like whiplash – a cumulation of all the things that had happened over the past few months. He still woke up from nightmares of the people he loved dying right in front of him, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be.

 

He could shake it off easier; steady his breathing and heartrate, push aside his terror, tell himself that it wasn’t real.

 

He could tell himself that what had happened to his mother wasn’t his fault and even if that reassurance felt like a lie – his heart tearing itself to shreds – he knew, logically, that it was right. And that knowledge, though wasn’t quite _enough_ , was a start.

 

It made things easier.

 

Oz was _so ready_ for things to be easier; smiling, laughing, spending time with the people he cared about. No fear humming insistently under his skin to ruin it all. It felt wrong to want that – to want to move on from the view of himself his father had forced onto him and to accept the fact that he was allowed to be close to other people, just like anyone else; that pursuing companionship wouldn’t end in calamity – but he _wanted_ it. He wanted it so badly that he wasn’t sure anymore if he could ever make himself pull away from his family and friends.

 

He wasn’t sure he could continue to resist the enticing pull of the desire to be closer.

 

“There you guys are!” Sharon called out, drawing Oz’s and Alice’s attention to where she was marching over to them through the parking lot. She looked exasperated. “If you’re going to take a break, at least do it inside.” She stopped in front of Alice, zipping up her coat despite Alice’s half-hearted protests, and, once she’d zipped it all the way up, she gave Alice a quick peck on the lips. Oz could just barely hear Sharon whisper, “You are freezing,” before she gave Alice another, longer kiss, and Oz turned away, giving them privacy.

 

“I’m going to head back inside,” he said, though he didn’t know if they were actually listening, and, with a wave over his shoulder, he walked away.

 

They finished moving in the late afternoon, all of them exhausted and sore. Nobody felt like budging after they’d all collapsed, so it turned into a spontaneous sleepover, all of the kids setting up on the living room floor, pulling blankets and pillows out of where they’d been stowed away.

 

The television and wifi wouldn’t be set up for another few days, so they settled on board games – the large box containing them taking an hour of dedicated searching to locate. The living room of the new house was larger than the one in the apartment, making spreading out possible even for seven high school seniors and they all got comfortable in a circle with the games they decided to play in the center.

 

They began to steadily drift off as the night progressed, the tiredness from all the manual labor they had been doing catching up with them at different rates. As people fell asleep, they would be removed from the games and everyone else would continue.

 

Alice fell asleep first, laying in Sharon’s lap, Xerxes teasingly telling Sharon that her magic hands finger-combing Alice’s hair had been the culprit. Jack fell asleep soon after her, laying next to Oz, his head pillowed on his arms. At that point a litany of yawns began moving from person to person along with stretching in a futile effort to feel slightly less sleepy and hands rubbing at eyes. Soon only Oz and Gilbert were left awake, no longer bothering with games, just whispering to each other, laying on their backs.

 

Oz was so tired his brain practically felt numb, his words stumbling out of his mouth. He yawned, his mouth stretching wide around it, and he could feel himself drifting off as his hand brushed against Gilbert’s. Not bothering to think about it, he grabbed Gilbert’s hand, entwining their fingers, Gilbert’s story about Vincent’s newest hobby of sewing, trailing off as he glanced down at where their hands were now joined.

 

Oz dragged their hands up, towards his face, pressing a kiss to the back of Gilbert’s hand. Gilbert was staring at him wide-eyed, a blush blazing its way across his face.

 

“Um,” Gilbert squeaked, but before he could try to say anything else, Oz was laughing, softly.

 

“Good night, Gil,” Oz murmured against his skin, losing the fight with his eyes to keep them open. Oz smiled sleepily at him.

 

“Oh, um, good night, Oz,” Gilbert said, his voice starting to die out near the end and his words trembling with nerves.

 

Oz reached over with his other hand, rolling onto his side and patting Gilbert on his cheek. His hand slid down to rest just under Gilbert’s chin. When Oz fell asleep, their hands were still clasped between them.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Oz woke up to the sound of buzzing near his head. Beside him Jack groaned and popped up onto his elbows, grabbing his phone and turning off the alarm that had been going off. Oz rolled onto his back to look at Jack, the feeling of his hand dragging Gilbert’s reminding him of his sleep-addled actions.

 

Oz gently pulled his hand from Gilbert’s, heat crawling its way up his face as he whispered to Jack, “You’re leaving soon?”

 

Jack jumped, clearly surprised to not be the only one awake, then nodded. “Yeah, Oswald’s gonna be here in a couple hours. I’ve gotta get ready.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “The only good thing about moving yesterday is, it gave me an incentive to pack my suitcase for this trip.” Jack pushed himself up into a sitting position, stretching his arms above his head, and Oz followed suit.

 

“If you were desperately scrambling to put together your suitcase right now, I promise I would’ve helped you.”

 

Jack raised an eyebrow, dropping his hands into his lap. “No, you wouldn’t. You would have laid there and laughed at me and my bad decision making.”

 

They both stood, carefully maneuvering their way around bodies and limbs, and Oz pushed Jack gently. “Don’t you know I love you enough to help you out?”

 

“Don’t _you_ know that I love _you_ enough to know that you wouldn’t help until you were done making fun of me?” Jack gave Oz a _look_ as they navigated their way to the staircase at the far end of the living room and Oz’s lips curved into a smile, laughter bubbling out of him.

 

“That’s fair.” Oz stepped past Jack, into the kitchen’s doorway. “Since I’m up, I think I’m going to make breakfast. Did you want anything?”

 

Jack hummed, drumming his fingers on the staircase’s railing. “Pancakes?” he suggested.

 

“Okay,” Oz agreed, his thoughts running through the list of things he’d need to gather onto the counter. “Maybe I’ll have a couple done by the time you’re ready?”

 

Jack reached out, squeezing Oz’s arm. “Thanks Oz,” he said, smiling. He then turned and set off up the steps.

 

Oz watched after him for a moment before his attention shifted, his gaze settling over the living room. All of his friends were still asleep, the room dim, the sun just barely beginning to rise and shine through the blinds covering the windows. A smile came over him, unbidden, following a swelling wave of contentment.

 

Looking at his friends, all laid out in spare blankets and borrowed pajamas, Oz felt warm – a warmth that started in his chest and radiated outwards, barely containable.

 

As he turned towards the kitchen, he couldn’t stop his smile from growing wider, a happy bounce entering his steps.

 

I didn’t take too long for Jack to finish getting ready. He was eating at the kitchen counter, burning his mouth with each bite he took of the pancakes Oz had made and Oz was laughing at him while he made his own breakfast.

 

A soft, “Good morning,” reached Oz and he and Jack glanced over to see Reim in the kitchen doorway, looking a bit hesitant.

 

“Hey,” Oz said. “Want some pancakes?”

 

“Yes, thank you.”

 

“Alright, you can have these then.” Oz put what were going to be his pancakes onto a plate and motioned for Reim to follow him to the table set up in the dining area of the room. Oz set the plate down and when he turned to go back to the stove, saw that Jack had taken over for him. Instead of going back, Oz decided to sit down, taking the seat to the side of Reim.

 

Reim peered at him as he blew on a forkful of food and asked, “Are you doing anything today and tomorrow? For the holiday?”

 

Oz put his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands. “You mean Christmas?” he asked.

 

Reim nodded.

 

“Nah.” Oz shook his head. “We don’t really celebrate that since it’s Jack’s and my birthday. According to Alice, I’m going to have a super amazing party tomorrow though.”

 

“Oh,” Reim said, surprise crossing his features. “I didn’t know it was your birthday tomorrow.”

 

Oz shrugged. “A lot’s been going on. I don’t think anybody but Alice does. And maybe Sharon, if Alice has mentioned it to her?”

 

Reim tilted his head, his breakfast sitting in front of him all but forgotten. “You haven’t told Gil? He’ll probably be disappointed if he misses it.”

 

Oz felt the blush from earlier crawl back up his face. “You think so?”

 

Reim nodded. “I’m not as close to him as Xerx is, but even I can see how much he cares about you.”

 

Oz pressed his lips together, sinking down in his chair a bit, feeling pleased and more than a little embarrassed.

 

He’d already told Alice that he had no plans of confessing to Gilbert, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt? Even if Gilbert didn’t feel the exact same way, maybe it would be fine? He could get it off his chest and Gilbert, at the very least, wouldn’t mind? Gilbert had made it clear that he wanted to be friends with Oz and Reim had just confirmed that it was blatantly obvious that Gilbert cared deeply for him, so maybe…

 

Maybe…

 

Maybe Oz was allowed to at least try?

 

Oz spent the entire morning debating on whether of not he should say something to Gilbert. He thought that if his actions last night were brought up it would be natural to charge right into a confession, but Gilbert didn’t mention the kiss and Oz was too nervous to bring it up himself.

 

Even if the kiss didn’t get brought up, Gilbert _did_ end up holding Oz’s hand after he’d woken up, the two of the seated beside each other at the kitchen table, Gilbert smiling tentatively at him. That moment was the closet Oz got to spilling out the words, “I like you,” but his throat had closed up at the last second and they’d died on the tip of his tongue. Instead he mentioned his birthday and Alice, sitting across from him, had excitedly insisted that Gilbert come by if he could.

 

Gilbert had looked between the two of them, then nodded, his eyes on Oz, saying, “Yeah, I’ll stop by. I actually got a present for you for the holiday, but I guess it’ll be a birthday present instead.”

 

Oswald arrived a bit later to pick up Jack and Oz and Oscar gave him a suffocatingly tight group hug right in the doorway, making him promise, again, to call every night.

 

In the early afternoon, once Oz’s friends had all cleared out, Oscar released a long sigh, dropping himself down onto the couch in the living room. He looked over at Oz, shaking his head, and said, “We are _never_ moving again.”

 

Oz, in response, burst into laughter – loud and long and bright, bringing a pleasant ache to his stomach.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Oz’s birthday celebrations started early the next day.

 

It was strange to wake up without Jack around – the two of them had never really spent much time apart before. Oz laid awake for a few minutes staring up at his ceiling, trying to come to terms with the strange sensation that had washed over him after he’d remembered that Jack wasn’t around and wouldn’t be for about another week. It was like a shift in the atmosphere, a subtle but persistent sense of wrongness that left Oz feeling a bit off, his body producing a feeling similar to, but not quite nausea. As Oz lay there, waiting for… something – the world to feel right again or for himself to adjust to this odd sensation – the morning sun shined through his window, blanketing him in its bright glow and pulling him further into consciousness.

 

With a sigh, he rolled over, grabbing his phone from the table beside his bed and, upon checking it, he noticed that there was a text message from Jack. The sense of wrongness began to settle and, seeing that the message was Jack telling him happy birthday, it shifted, a flutter of happiness rising up and fighting to take its place. Oz, a small smile on his lips, sat up in bed and wished Jack a happy birthday back, sending the message before he stood and wandered out of his room.

 

Oscar was already in the living room, a cup of coffee in hand and an array of waffles and fruit set out in front of him on the coffee table with a tub of whipped cream beside them.

 

“Happy birthday Oz!” Oscar called when he spotted him, standing up and going over to Oz to give him a hug. Oz squeezed Oscar back just as tightly. “The waffles are still hot, if you’re hungry.” Oscar pulled away, glancing down at a watch on his wrist. “Mrs. Kate should be coming by with Ada soon. I’ll give you your present when they get here.”

 

“Ada’s coming?” Oz asked, another burst of happiness running through him at the news. It wasn’t often that Ada got to spend his and Jack’s birthday with them. “I’ll have to send Jack a bunch of Snaps of her. He’s gonna be _so_ jealous.”

 

Oscar laughed, wrapping an arm around Oz’s shoulders and steering him towards the couch. “Just don’t rub it in _too_ much.” He placed a plate with a few waffles on it in front of Oz.

 

Rather than joking back, Oz’s smile slipped slightly as he reached past his plate to grab a handful of blueberries and cut strawberries, slowly dropping them one by one onto his waffles. He was curious about how things were going with getting custody of Ada, but wasn’t sure he really wanted to ask.

 

Oscar must have noticed his shift in his mood because he looked at Oz, concern in his eyes, and asked, “Something wrong?” in a gentle, probing tone.

 

Oz hesitated for a moment, but shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “Nothing.” And, with a smile he knew must have looked strained, he popped a blueberry into his mouth and reached for the tub of whipped cream.

 

Ada was so excited about Oz’s birthday that she was already brandishing his present as she was brought through the front door, held in Mrs. Kate’s surprisingly strong arms. Oz had ‘ooo’d and ‘ahhh’d over the picture of him she’d made and the second she’d been released from Mrs. Kate he’d promptly been smothered in birthday hugs and kisses, lifting her up into his own arms to make the attack easier for her.

 

Once Ada was settled, Oscar had pulled out his gift for Oz, Ada and Oz opening it together and finding a few books Oz had been interested in.

 

After opening the presents, the three of them – Mrs. Kate providing supervision – set about making a cake. Oz and Ada ended up messy with flour and batter covering their hands and smeared across their faces by the end of it, their mouths split into wide smiles and spoonfuls of frosting in their hands as a reward for all their hard work.

 

While Oz and Ada were in the bathroom cleaning up there was a knock at the door and, once they came back down to the living room, Oz saw that Alice and Gilbert had arrived, Gilbert looking abnormally pale. Both of them told him happy birthday and Oz walked over to sit between them on the couch, Ada climbing up onto his lap.

 

Oz looked between Alice and Gilbert and raised an eyebrow at Gilbert, asking, “Did Alice pick you up?”

 

Gilbert released a long breath, looking at Oz mournfully. “It was the _worst_ experience of my life,” he said, eliciting a cry of indignation from Alice.

 

“My driving is perfectly fine!” Alice exclaimed.

 

Gilbert leaned forward, past Oz, to get a better view of Alice, blatant astonishment on his face. “I had _at least_ five heart attacks on the way here.”

 

Alice huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “That’s not _my_ fault.”

 

Gilbert gaped at her, sputtering, “Excuse me!?”

 

Oz laughed and, as their bickering continued, he could feel the pleasant, happy feeling that had bloomed in his chest growing.

 

Once Gilbert had conceded his defeat to Alice, they gave Oz their presents – Alice’s being a, in her own words, “super cool” taser while Gilbert had gotten him a keychain of one of his favorite characters. Oz thanked them both and let Ada look the presents over, though he didn’t let her handle the taser herself. The four of them then headed outside after Ada mentioned that she wanted to have a snowball fight and they didn’t come back in until Oscar announced that the cake was ready to be eaten.

 

Full of sweets and sipping on hot chocolate, Oz and Gilbert stood together in the kitchen. Mrs. Kate, Oscar, and Alice were in the living room, entertaining Ada, who was undeniably filled with the high energy of a sugar rush, so they had privacy as they finished up their drinks.

 

Gilbert kept glancing at Oz, his fingers drumming on his cup and his body moving restlessly. Oz watched him curiously as he struggled, Gilbert’s mouth opening partially and then snapping closed just as fast. The next thing Oz knew, Gilbert was chugging the last of his hot chocolate – an impressive feat considering the fact that Oz’s drink was still a little too warm for him to take large sips of it.

 

“Uh,” Oz began, his eyes wide, thinking that whatever sort of breakdown Gilbert was having it was probably about time he tried to intervene.

 

“ _Ouch_ ,” Gilbert groaned with a grimace, rubbing at his throat, and setting his cup down on the counter.

 

“You okay?” Oz asked, taking a step closer to Gilbert, pushing into his personal space, and placing his free hand on Gilbert’s arm.

 

Gilbert stared at Oz, his lips pressed together, stress and a frantic sort of energy swirling in his golden eyes. Finally, he said a timid, “Hey…” The word seemed to cost him something, appeared to be ripped from his lips, his breathing going unsteady.

 

“Hi?” Oz responded, his thumb beginning to move in a soothing motion on Gilbert’s arm.

 

“I-” Gilbert licked his lips, breaking eye-contact with Oz for a moment, before resolutely raising his gaze and staring straight at him. “I had something I… wanted to say to you?”

 

Oz set his cup down on the counter and nodded slowly, a jolt of apprehension running through him. “Okay. What’s up?” He smiled at Gilbert, trying to keep his thoughts from jumping to the worst sorts of conclusions.

 

“I kind of wanted to say this for a while now and then there was that… thing yesterday and now I just can’t stop thinking about telling you and- Well. I like you.”

 

Oz blinked, nervous laughter bubbling up out of his mouth, an astonished, “Huh?” slipping out with it.

 

Gilbert took a deep breath, his cheeks and ears turning bright red. “I like you,” he repeated, slower, quieter. “I really, really like you.”

 

Oz felt like his eyes were going to pop right out of his head. “Oh,” he breathed. “ _Oh_.” His hand on Gilbert’s arm tightened, this point of contact the only thing keeping his grounded as a wave of happy, nervous butterflies crashed over him. He surged forward, wrapping his arms around Gilbert, pulling him into a tight hug, their bodies pressed as close together as he could manage. Gilbert gave a surprised yelp, but didn’t fight it. “I like you too,” Oz said, his eyes closed tightly and his body trembling faintly.

 

Oz could feel Gilbert stiffen in his arms, but in the very next second he was hugging Oz back even tighter than he had been before, burying his head in Oz’s neck, his curls ticking Oz’s skin.

 

“Can I take you out some time? On a date?” Gilbert asked, his voice a whisper.

 

Oz nodded, a wide smile spreading across his face. “I’d like that.”

 

A beat of silence and then Gilbert was pulling away, just far enough to be able to rest his forehead against Oz’s. He looked hesitant, his eyebrows furrowed. “Can you… can you promise me that you’ll tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable? I know you’ve already said that it’s okay if I’m affectionate with you, but… if there’s anything at all, even if it seems ridiculous, that makes you feel… _bad_ , will you tell me?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” And though Oz knew that this request was mostly due to the vague conclusion that Gilbert had come to about his situation with Zai, he added, “As long as you promise to do the same?”

 

Gilbert nodded without a single moment of hesitation. “I promise.”

 

In the end, Oz decided, even though Jack hadn’t been around for it, this birthday was definitely being one of the best he had ever had.

 

~ ~ ~

 

It was about halfway through January when Oscar triumphantly burst into the house with the news that Ada was going to be moving in with them. The Friday of that week, after getting out of classes, Oz’s friends were once again dragged into manual labor for the promise of food – this time moving Ada’s belongings and painting her room the bright shade of pink that she’d picked out with Oscar. They were all significantly less worn out this time, though that didn’t seem to make them any more efficient as Alice and Xerxes kept getting distracted by Ada’s toys and Sharon and Reim were playing tic-tac-toe with the paint on her walls. Jack was also distracted, frequently pulling his phone out of his pocket and responding to texts with a fond grin on his face – presumably updating Lacie on the progress of moving Ada into their house.

 

Oz and Gilbert were currently on ‘playing with Ada’ duty, watching as Alice and Xerxes came in and out of the house, bringing in boxes that Mrs. Kate had packed and then ripping them open to see what was inside as if they were discovering mysterious treasure.

 

Ada was brainstorming what they should do, a coloring book laid out in front of her abandoned, a few stray crayons beside it that Gilbert was stooping down to pick up and put away. Suddenly she gasped loudly, clapping her hands together and making Gilbert jump, the crayons he’d grabbed fumbling out of his grip.

 

“I know!” Ada exclaimed, her eyes sparking. “We should have a wedding! I’ll be the person that tells the people they can kiss!”

 

Gilbert shot Oz a distressed look, but Oz just laughed, teasingly calling out, “Alice, Sharon, why don’t the two of you get married for Ada?”

 

Sharon’s head popped out of Ada’s room. “What?” she asked.

 

“Ada wants to officiate a marriage. I think you two would be _perfect_ brides.”

 

“Oh no, no.” A blush swept across Sharon’s cheeks. “No, I can’t, I’d be too embarrassed.”

 

“Aw, come on,” Oz replied. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

 

“Then why don’t you and Gilbert do it?” Alice asked, her hands on her hips, sticking her tongue out at Oz when he looked over at her.

 

Oz stuck his tongue out at her in return and, mumbling, “You guys are no fun,” he turned to Gilbert who tensed under his gaze, a nervous smile on his face. Oz huffed out a sigh and stepped close to Gilbert, who watched him with wide eyes and bated breath, but didn’t back away. Oz reached up, cupping Gilbert’s face in his hands, gently, his fingertips brushing the soft hair at the nape of Gilbert’s neck, then, he slowly leaned in and gave Gilbert a kiss on the nose.

 

When he pulled away Gilbert’s face was pink and his smile was shy and soft.

 

Oz couldn’t help smiling back, his own grin feeling just as sappy. “See?” Oz said, the words supposedly for Alice and Sharon, though his tone was much too quiet, filled with a private kind of sweetness that wasn’t necessarily for anyone but Gilbert to hear. “That wasn’t so hard. Probably one of the easiest things in the world to do, honestly.”

 

Gilbert gave a breathy laugh then leaned in, pressing his mouth to Oz’s, in a quick, chaste kiss that made Oz’s heart stutter. “Almost too easy,” Gilbert agreed, their lips brushing as he spoke.

 

In the background Xerxes was grumbling about them being too lovey-dovey and Sharon was gushing about them being the second cutest couple she’d ever seen – her and Alice coming in first, of course – and Ada was giggling and saying “Congratulations!” as she threw hastily ripped up scraps of paper up in the air, pieces of it getting caught in Gilbert and Oz’s hair.

 

Oz’s hands slid down from Gilbert’s neck, slipping over his arms to stop at his hands, clasping them in his own, Gilbert giving his hands an affectionate squeeze.

 

Oz knew that, in this moment, he was smiling brightly.

 

It wasn’t perfect, and a lot of the time Oz still felt hollow and wrong and desperate and _afraid_.

 

But right now, in his home with his family and his friends and _Gilbert_ , Oz felt so happy and warm and _safe_ that he could burst.

 

And, if possible, he fully intended to stay this way – surrounded by and returning, in kind, all of this love that he was gradually learning to accept for the rest of his life.


End file.
